Demons Do Have Hearts
by Sincerely in Blood
Summary: Isabelle Rozalia is the daughter of Gabriel, a simple and loving man. But when she is captured by her father's resurrected archenemy, Count Vladislaus Dragulia, Isabelle begins to question who her father really is and where she actually came from.
1. Abducted

Disclaimer- I do not own Van Helsing. Isabelle Rozalia is my own creation.

Rated PG-13 for sexuality, vampire violence/blood, and language. Rating may go up.

Please read and REVIEW. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but please, no flames! Enjoy.

**Chapter 1- Abducted **

"I HATE YOU! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?" I shouted at my father, Gabriel through the door. I slammed it shut, leaving myself in the cold winter air with only a thin white dress on. He wouldn't come after me. His method of parenting was that if left to my own devices, I would come crawling back to _him_. Well, he was wrong.

A cold wind came through, making my body numb. I picked my way through the snow to the stables where my beloved Tynan was. When I opened the door, he greeted me with a whinny and snorted. Wispy clouds blew from his nostrils as he shook his long overgrown mane.

"We are going for a ride, Tynan," I said as I grabbed for a bridle and saddle. Upon seeing the bridle, he whinnied and pranced in place, his eyes dancing. He loved to run in the snow.

The saddle that I had chosen was not one of my favorites; it was a side saddle that had belonged to my mother. But I couldn't ride astride in a dress, and Tynan always enjoyed a little variety. I tacked him up and led him out into the snow. He danced behind me, half-rearing as I led him to the mounting block. I stroked his neck tenderly and mounted, sitting perfectly balanced in the antique saddle. He quivered under my weight but didn't move.

Just then, I heard my father open the door to the house. "Isabelle?" He cried. Without a moment's hesitation, I nudged Tynan in the ribs and we were gone, racing down the snow-covered trail. Tynan shook his dark head and raised it high, his eyes alert and bright. I gave him the bit and sat quietly, letting the horse's fluid movement rock me into a false sense of security.

We galloped hard, past the old mill, beyond the frozen river, and over the grassy plain that in the summer was covered with daisies. It was then I realized that we were well outside of Budapest and lost in an evergreen forest. I slowed Tynan to a walk and considered going back. Gabriel would be angry, but he would accept me back into his house with no questions asked. But I didn't want his pity, or his overabundant understanding. So we kept on going until it grew dark and I could barely see farther than between Tynan's ears. The air turned bitterly cold and I shivered. Tynan's muscles were tense and he was treading carefully, like one missed step would lead us to our deaths. I laid my head down on his neck and savored the minimal amount of warmth that was there. My eyes drifted and I was about to fall asleep when I heard a low, blood curling cry. A wolf.

I sat up instantly and reined Tynan into my hand. His eyes were wild with fright and he reared up, ignoring my pleas for him to stay on all fours. Out of the woods came a huge pack of wolves, their mouths drooling with hunger. Tynan screamed and pawed the air. He lashed his teeth out at them; daring them to get closer. The Alpha wolf, a beautiful male with ivory fur approached, his fangs bared and his lips curled. I tried to turn Tynan in the opposite direction so we could flee, but the pack formed a circle around us, blocking any hope of escape. Tynan started to buck and lash out from all sides; his flanks were already dripping with sweat. He hit a female square in the jaw with one hind foot. She was thrown into a tree and did not stir again. The other wolves, angered at their loss, closed in. I shut my eyes and prayed that the end would come quickly.

The sudden flap of wings startled me. I looked up to see a huge bat, almost the size of my house, swooping down from the moonless sky. I screamed and covered my eyes, but the bat-like creature picked both Tynan and I up effortlessly, leaving a hungry pack of wolves howling in despair. I could feel drowsiness overwhelming me and my eyes rolled back into my head. The last thing I remembered was the vicious beating of the bat's wings as he rose higher into the air.


	2. Gabriel Van Helsing

**Chapter 2- Gabriel Van Helsing**  
  
I woke up in an ornately decorated bedchamber. My entire bed was made of silk, and the canopies hanging from the bedposts were of the finest velvet. I pushed the curtain aside and got up, swaying slightly on my legs, as I was still dizzy. The fireplace was lit, and above it hung a picture of a very beautiful young woman. She had green eyes, and her hair, which was the color of red flames, hung down to her waist, which then it curled around her stomach, contrasting slightly with her yellow gown. She held a fan and half of her pale face was hiding behind it. It appeared as though as she was protecting something, keeping something a secret. I wondered who this mysterious woman was and why someone would bother hanging a huge painting of her above his/her fireplace.

I tore my eyes away from the painting and looked to my left, smiling with delight when I saw that I had my own little sitting area. There was a bookshelf, containing what I estimated over 100 books, two chairs, and round table, which had sitting upon it a golden bowl. Next to one of the chairs was a window, which was latched shut and covered by two thick blue curtains. I went over and threw the curtains open. Moonlight shined in, and bounced off the bowl, making my room brighter. There was no snow on the windowpane. It was then that I began to wonder where I was. My mind was fuzzy, but I tried to remember what had happened.

I had gotten into an argument with my father, he said that he would never permit me to learn how to speak Romanian; he argued that we would never visit Romania, so why should I bother with learning the language? Frustrated, I had left and ridden away on Tynan... some wolves had tried to attack us... but we had been rescued by a flying creature... I tried to recall what it had been but I could not.

Confused and worried, I closed the curtains, immersing myself in **total **darkness. Something had happened to the fire.

"Hello, Isabelle." I froze. Frantically, I searched the darkness for the source of the voice, but all that met me was never-ending gloom. My throat started to close up and I took a step backward. "You look a lot like your father, Isabelle. Same facial structure. Same hair color. But your eyes... you have the eyes of your mother," the voice said. Now it was coming from the ceiling, which was impossible. I pinched myself to make sure I was awake and I took another step backward.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly as I clutched the curtains. _I wish I was back home_, I thought. The voice laughed and all of the lights came on.

Standing not two feet from me was an extremely handsome but enigmatically looking man. He was dressed unusually: his outfit consisted of all black with riding boots and a long cape. Clearly, by the state of his dress he was nobility, but what shocked me was that in his left ear was a little golden hoop. His hair was black, and fell to about shoulder-length, where it framed his face in such a way that is seemed to be sucking all of the color out of him, if there was any to begin with. But what really got my attention were his eyes. By his outward appearance he seemed about thirty or so, but his eyes were much older. They were wise, almost seductive, and in a way, I could not help feeling drawn to them. I blinked and then realized I had been staring at him, which was considered extremely rude. I quickly averted my gaze.

"Do you know who I am now?" He asked in a thick eastern European accent. I shook my head and he laughed, but it was an empty laugh, a laugh that only had crude feelings behind it. "Then allow me to introduce myself." He bowed and lifted his cloak back, revealing a scabbard that was attached to his waist. "I am Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Born 1432. _Murdered_ 1462. _Murdered again_ 1888. Resurrected 1907." My jaw dropped and he smiled wickedly; I noticed that his canines were unusually sharp. He stepped closer to me, and I could sense the evil that was within him almost instantly. I tried to slide past him, but he trapped me under his gaze and I stood still.

"What do you want?" I cried, thinking of my father and Tynan. Surely he had done something with my beloved horse, and the thought made me nauseous.  
  
"Do not worry, Isabelle, Tynan is in wonderful hands," he snarled, and went over towards the fireplace. He lit it without even striking a match. "You asked me what I want. Well, I will tell you." Quicker then lightening, he came over and grabbed both my wrists and pinned me against a wall. "I want... I want revenge. And you are going to help me get it." I opened my mouth to speak, but he silenced me with an icy glare. "Your father has killed my brides, destroyed my children, and terminated all my hopes for a normal life. Do you think it wrong to wish restitution upon him? WELL DO YOU?" He shook me, and my head banged hard against the wall. I felt blood ooze out from underneath my hair.

"I... I... had no idea," I replied weakly. Vladislaus dropped me and I raised my hand to the back of my head and felt a wound. I did not convey to him that I was injured.

"The great Gabriel Van Helsing never told you? He used to be the most famous and most wanted man in all of Europe. He was a murderer. He killed thousands of people to reap a few seconds worth of glory," he growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I don't know any Gabriel Van Helsing. My father's name is Gabriel Rozalia. We have lived in Budapest, Hungary ever since I was born 16 years ago. My mother died giving birth to me. You have the wrong girl," I sneered back, challenging this man to contradict me. "_Let me go_."

"Oh no, Miss Rozalia, I have the right girl. I have been watching you ever since you were old enough to talk. You have no idea how long I have waited for this," he said softly. His tone changed so dramatically I started to feel uneasy. My head was throbbing and without thinking, I buried my face in my hands to try to relieve the pain. He obviously took it as a sign I had given up and he raised his head triumphantly.

''Dinner is in two hours. Make sure you look presentable, Isabelle, or I will be very displeased. We will discuss your future in more depth then," He hissed and then left, closing the door behind him. I rubbed my pounding temples and sat down on my bed. Not having a clue want to do, I lay down on the soft silk and closed my eyes, wishing I was anywhere else but here. Then again, I didn't even know where "here" was.


	3. Nosferatu

**Chapter 3 – Nosferatu**  
  
I sat up quickly, cautious of getting blood all over the bed sheets. I looked around for something I could use to clean my wound, but the room seemed abruptly empty. I sighed and moved myself slowly from the bed over to a closet that was next to the fireplace. I opened it and found a huge selection of gowns, riding outfits, and various other pieces of clothing. I searched through the closet until I withdrew a white scarf. My hands shaking, I carefully began to wipe the blood away from the back of my head. It had stopped bleeding, but my hair was a mess and as I continued to clean, I could feel the liquid the scarf was soaking up. When I was convinced I had done the best job possible, I threw the scarf underneath my bed. My eyes closed and I tried to imagine what my father's face looked like, but to my horror, nothing came to me. I felt extremely guilty for running away from him and I knew it had been childish and immature. If only I could go back how many days it had been since I left. But I couldn't, so I decided I would appease the count by attending dinner, but I had no real intention of staying. Once I found Tynan, I would leave this place, wherever I was.

The gowns winked at me, encouraging me to try one of them on. I blinked a couple of times and rummaged through them till I found a simple but beautiful green dress. I proceeded to try it on, but I felt very uncomfortable, like hundreds of eyes were watching me. I ignored the feeling, slipped off my old, battered white gown, and got into the new one. It matched my body conformation perfectly and I felt like some fairy-tale princess, lost in a dream. I smiled, got some matching shoes out of the closet, and surveyed the room for a mirror. There wasn't one. _The count doesn't have a mirror? He has a huge closet of gorgeous clothing but no mirror? What's the purpose in that?_ I thought. Shrugging, I let my hair down and ran my fingers through it. That would have to do. I glanced around my room one more time to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything, and then left.

I was in a very long corridor. On each side of me were dozens of doors, and I couldn't even mark the end of the hallway. I debated whether to go left or right, and then I picked left because usually that way was lucky for me. Pictures hung on either sides of the walls, and on every other column were two huge torches, lighting my way. I started to get the premonition that the torches were lit for me and only me. I continued walking, observing the paintings and their genuine quality. My gaze was usually directed at my feet, but every so often I looked up to see if I was reaching the end of the corridor. To me, it seemed like the end of the hallway was never going to come, and I was not getting any closer. I told my legs to move faster, but I was tired, and almost all of my strength was gone. I wondered when was the last time I had eaten. Then, unexpectedly, before I even had a chance to glance up, the corridor ended. To my left was a staircase, and to my right was another door. Not wishing to travel down any more never-ending hallways, I took the stairs.

The stairs led me down into a spacious library. If I had not been so anxious to meet another living soul to assure me I was alive, I would have stopped and browsed among the books. As the circumstanced were, I passed the library without even batting an eye. Next to the library was a parlor room, but it did not have the same sleek appearance. The tables were dusty and an innumerable amount of cobwebs hung from the ceiling. I glanced out a foggy window and saw that it was snowing. The moon was high in the sky. I hurried along, burst through a door on my right, and smiled with relief upon realization that I had arrived at my destination. And the count was waiting for me.

"Sit," he commanded, drawing a chair out for me with only the slightest movement of his hand. I sat, careful not to look directly into his gaze. I had reached the conclusion that he was dreadfully manipulative and the only way to escape that was to not look him in the eye.

"I presume you had an easy time finding me?" He asked, his dark eyes glittering. _I wasn't looking for you_, I thought as I gritted my teeth. _I was looking for the damn dining hall_. But I nodded anyway.

"Good." He did not sit down, as I expected him to do, but instead, he waved his hand, and a huge plateful of food appeared before me. I grabbed a fork and stuck it into a piece of ham. The fork was halfway to my mouth when I thought: _What if he has poisoned the food?_ I paused with a nonchalant look on my face. He chuckled and picked up a glass full of red wine.

"Isabelle, I have done nothing to the food. You must eat. I don't want you dead, anyway. I need you for something important." He took a sip of the wine.

There was something in his voice that made me trust him against my will. I eyed the ham and then came to the conclusion that if I didn't eat, I would die a much more painful death than if he poisoned me. I took a bite gingerly and rested the fork on my plate. "See?" he said, to try to convince me that he was telling the truth. "Nothing to be concerned about." I waited a minute, and when I didn't fall over convulsing, I dug in. The food was excellent; my father had never been much of a cook, so usually it was my expertise that we relied on. More often than not, I burnt the food.

When I finished, the count set down his glass and came over to me. I kept my eyes trained on my plate, but when he bent down next to my chair, I was torn away, and my gaze settled on his face. He looked even MORE handsome in the gentle flickering of candles than in my room with the luminous fireplace. I swallowed hard and attempted to keep my mind busy by rememorizing the conjugation of Latin verbs.

"Isabelle... tell me why you were running away from Gabriel," he said gently, like he was talking to an injured child. "What did he do?"

"Ladies first, count. My first question is this: Why did you rescue me?" I sad sweetly, determined to figure the count out by playing his little mind game.

He blinked. "I didn't rescue you."

I laughed and shook my head. "Then who did?" Clearly he did not have an answer for this, for he just shrugged and tucked a stray lock of black hair behind his ear.

"Interesting. OK... second question: Since the wolves were about to kill me, why didn't you just let them do the job for you?"

The count sighed and rocked back on his heels. "I just told you, Isabelle, that I need you for something that is very significant. You would have been no use to me dead."

"So that_ was_ you who rescued me?" I said, hiding the smile that was forming at the corners of my mouth. He was caught in his own trap.

"Yes," he snapped impatiently. "But that is irrelevant. What IS relevant is that my revenge on your father is soon to be carried out. Do you want to know what your job is?" He asked, but I knew my opinion didn't matter in the slightest to him.

"No," I answered defiantly. The count continued like he hadn't heard me. "You just stay here and look pretty. By any means you try to escape, I will have Tynan killed. Do you understand?" His eyes dared me to answer otherwise.

"Yes," I said sadly. So I was stuck in the castle. The devil's castle. In the middle of nowhere. "Um... count? Where exactly am I?" I inquired, accidentally letting fear slip into my voice. He grinned and strode over to a map of Europe that was hanging on the north wall. He pointed to a small dot in the middle of Romania.

"Bucharest," he replied, and then, with a long finger, he traced a path from Bucharest to Budapest, where my father was. "If your father comes looking for you, which I am almost certain he will, it will take him at least a week by horse. It has been five days since you left your father, Isabelle. He must be _deathly _worried." The count cackled at his own joke. His canines flashed in the weak candlelight, and I scooted backward, realizing suddenly why his canines where so sharp, why he had rescued me in the form of a bat, why he had told me his death date: twice. I would have liked to believe it was just an illusion, or my imagination getting the better of me. But it wasn't. My heart beat increased and I could feel it thumping in my chest.

"_Nosferatu_," I whispered. The count directed his gaze at me. I knew he had heard what I said. "What was that, Isabelle?" he asked indifferently. "I didn't quite catch it." I took a deep breath.

"You're... you're a vampire," I squeaked, pushing my body deeper into the chair I was sitting in. "You're one of the undead."

He grinned and was by side in one instant. I yelped in surprise. "I'm not just _any _vampire. I'm the son of the devil. Archenemy to the Left Hand of God, your father." He lowered his face so it was just inches away from mine. I tried not to flinch under his penetrating gaze. "And you know what else?" he asked softly. I shook my head to convey my genuine confusion. Vladislaus chuckled and got up, releasing me from his eyes. I slumped in my chair.

"Well, Isabelle, you will know soon enough. In the meantime, feel free to explore the castle, but avoid going outside... or else I will be forced to punish you." He made to exit.

I found my voice. "When can I see Tynan?" I asked politely, careful to not anger him. He didn't even glance back at me when he answered. "All in good time." The count then left, his black cloak billowing out behind him.


	4. Limitations

Author's Note: I would like to thank all of you for your reviews. You are too kind. Enjoy the chapter. I hope it sheds some light on the story, then again, it might make you have even more questions :)  
  
**Chapter 4 – Limitations**  
  
I went to bed that night with butterflies in my stomach. My head was throbbing and I had no idea what was going on. Drawing from my conversations with the count, I concluded that my father must have been the legendary Van Helsing and that he had murdered the count over 16 years ago. Somehow, the count had been re-resurrected to seek his unquenchable revenge on my father. But what was I supposed to do? My father never left the house; even if I had been gone for five days, like the count had said, Gabriel would send others to look for me. In my opinion, the count was wasting his time and had no reason to keep me alive. Did he know this? And if he did, why hadn't he let the wolves kill me? Why, if he hated my father so, did he not just finish me off and then proceed to my house to deal with my father? Or did he have something else planned that no one, except himself, was aware of? And was he really telling me the truth? Had my father been Van Helsing? Or was he just using it as an excuse to keep me here?

A Thousand more questions entered my brain, but I had no answers. I determined that the only way to figure anything out was to visit the library in the morning while the count was sleeping. I gripped the corners of the bed sheets tightly and fell asleep, bathed in the warmth from the fire. When I woke the next morning, I could hear the wind howling outside of the castle. Curious, I threw open the curtains and saw that a ferocious snowstorm had struck Bucharest. The snow was at least two feet deep and it showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. My heart dropped to my toes as I realized there was no way my father's search party, if he had even sent one, would reach me in the next week. I was trapped in a castle with a demon.

_Well, I could look on the bright side of things,_ I thought grimly. I wasn't dead, my room was decent, and the count seemed willing to feed me. It could be a lot worse. Plus, there was a library downstairs, and my hands were just aching to get a hold on some of his books. Feeling a tiny bit more cheerful, I dressed quickly and left my room. The corridor was still as long as ever, but I found myself at the end of the hallway quicker than the last time.

When I reached the library, I was overwhelmed by the amount of books the count actually had in his possession. I did a quick overview and estimated over 1,000 books were contained JUST in the bookshelves. That wasn't counting the other books that were lying on tables or stuffed underneath chairs. The count had all of the titles categorized alphabetically by genre and author, so it was easy to locate a book on the subject I was interested in today: my father. The count had an entire series of books dedicated to famed monster slayers, listed by last names. I picked out the V-Z section and opened it to the beginning, where I quickly found my father's "real" name.  
  
_Van Helsing, Gabriel  
  
A dedicated but elusive member of the Knights of the Holy Order, Van Helsing is most famous for his defeat of Count Dracula in 1888. Upon his return from Transylvania, a secluded village that resides in the Transylvanian Alps, Van Helsing said: "I swear by The Left Hand of God that I will never succumb to evil again, nor destroy innocent lives that get in the way of my attempts to terminate evil." Van Helsing is rumored to have settled down in Budapest, Hungary, to care for his daughter, Isabelle. As of today, he has not been spotted by anyone outside of Budapest.  
  
There are people, most of them conservative bishops, who want Van Helsing brought to trial. Though Van Helsing was an effective tool in exterminating evil, his methods sometimes caused harm upon others, and resulted in the death of one young woman **known to date** (Anna Valerious). The bishops believe that Van Helsing should be held accountable for her murder and tried guilty. As of today, no further action to bring this alleged "murderer" to justice has been attempted.  
_  
"Interesting, isn't it?" whispered a low, seductive voice behind my ear. The count's presence startled me so much I shrieked and dropped the book to the floor. He didn't laugh, as I thought he would. He only looked at me with a melancholy expression. A shiver ran down my spine as he rested his eyes on me.

"I never knew..." I began, but I just couldn't find the right words to describe what I wanted to say. My lips trembled.

"Yes... Anna was a lovely creature... pity her life ended so tragically. Then again, Gabriel always overestimated or underestimated his own strength... with Anna, unfortunately, he underestimated. But he cherished that girl... ah, yes I can quite remember..." the count said bitterly.

"Was she my mother?" I said, turning my entire body around to face him. He studied my sincere expression and replied flatly, "No."

"Did you know my mother?" I asked, hungry for more information. The count's gaze flickered, and for a moment, I thought I saw remorse in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly I wasn't sure. "Yes. I did."

He went over to the grand fireplace and rested his left arm on the mantle. I was consciously aware of the awkward silence that followed, but the count seemed to be pondering something else. I got up to leave, presuming he would not acknowledge my exodus. My sluggish body was about halfway across the room when he stopped me.

"Where are you going?" He asked as he turned away from the mantle and looked at me. I met his gaze hesitantly; afraid that he might try to hypnotize me again. But he made no such effort.

"Uh... back to my room. I thought you wanted to be alone."

"You aren't hungry? Mortals tend to be at least three times a day, if not more, from what I can remember," he said knowingly, an emotionless smile on his face.

"Well... yes, we do, in fact. I'm one who could eat all of the time..." I trailed off, realizing I was rambling like a foolish child. To cover my embarrassment, I asked, "Why aren't you...um... well... sleeping? That's what I thought vampires did during the day, so they could be active at night."

He chuckled and shook his head, his golden earring twinkling in the weak light. "I told you I wasn't just any old vampire, didn't I? I am not hindered with the limitations that _most _vampires face," he said, spitting the word "most" out like it was venom on his tongue.

"Unfortunately, it sometimes gets the better of me..." he grinned mischievously and motioned towards a curtained window with his eyebrows. "Did you see the huge storm that blew in? It appears that all trade routes via the roads have been halted. You're father will be much delayed."

"My father will NOT think to look here," I replied stiffly. "He believes that he killed you."

The count shrugged and opened a curtain to glance outside. "Perhaps," he mused. "Then again, Gabriel's past has always haunted him. He might be second-guessing his actions soon enough." He let the curtain fall back into place and then offered me his arm. I blinked my eyes and took a step backward.

"Don't fret, Isabelle, I am not going to bite you. It's a common courtesy in Romania that the man offers the woman his arm to escort her to the dining hall. Does Hungary not enforce the same custom?" "Yes," I replied bitterly, and took his arm, which was unnaturally cold, but comforting in an odd sort of way.


	5. Anger in Blood

Disclaimer: Is applicable to all chapters. Story not intended for profit.  
  
**Chapter 5 – Anger in Blood **  
  
After breakfast, I took to exploring the castle. Since the count hardly ever slept, I was careful to stay away from any doors that might lead outside. I didn't want him to think that I was planning to escape, despite the fact that I missed Tynan dreadfully.

The castle was huge; I soon realized that there were at least four floors, and every floor had a different atmosphere. Floors 2-4 were ominously quiet, but I got no immediate sense of danger while I was there. Floor 1, however, was dark and cold. I presumed that it was underground, for the entire area was made of ice. The air was so bone-chilling I didn't think there was a chance that anything could survive in such harsh conditions. I wondered why the count would have an entire floor dedicated to the remembrance of the Ice Age. What was snow to him?

It had been two days and I had not seen the count. I started to grow concerned, so to keep my mind off of his absence I took to reading in the library and exploring. Each time I went to the dining hall, there was food laid out for me. I wondered if he did this, or if he had some inside help. I hadn't seen anyone else, but sometimes, at night, I thought I heard noises that couldn't have been made by just one person. But then again, the castle was menacing and remote at night, even more so than in the day. I was careful to stay in my chambers past midnight.

One day I was passing through the parlor when I heard something move behind me. Presuming it was the count, I turned around to greet him and ask him where the hell he had been. But no one was there. Perplexed, I waited for a moment, and when nothing happened, I shrugged and proceeded out of the parlor. I then heard soft footsteps and felt a cold, icy hand rest on my shoulder. I froze and spun around slowly, coming face to face with a seven foot tall cloaked spirit. In his hand, the demon was holding a long, silver rapier. His hood was so deep I could not see his face.

"Isabelle..." the demon's voice rasped. My shoulder started to shake under his hand; his abnormal strength was making my legs quiver.

"Isabelle..." the demon hissed again. I tore my eyes away from the rapier and to the empty void that I presumed was his face.

"Now you know what it is like to be seconds away from death..." he chuckled loudly; his voice was so grating I flinched.

"Just like your mother..." Before I even had time to blink, the demon was raising the rapier. I stared blankly at it, for my mind had already submitted to his overwhelming power and I realized there was no way I could counter it. I waited.

Just before the rapier came in contact with my neck, a huge bat came bursting in through an opaque window. I ducked as the demon whirled around, tracing a line of fire with his rapier. The bat ripped out the glass that was embedded in his skin and flexed his wings as he glared fiercely at the evil spirit.

"Ah... Vlad... nice to make your acquaintance. I am sure you know who I am," he said smoothly. The bat snarled and lunged at the demon, his fangs and claws lashing. He grabbed the rapier and bit it in two, and then threw it out the broken window. The demon laughed; his voice hurt so much I had to cover my ears to keep my mind sane.

"Not wise, Vlad not wise... You have angered my master, Vlad, and betrayed him. My master does not hold traitors in the highest respect..." the spirit mused. "You were resurrected with one simple job to do. But you let her..." The demon pointed a skeleton hand at me, "... and your past get in the way. This is your warning. Pull yourself together, or I will be inclined to make you pay the price." With that, the demon vanished, leaving a sliver of smoke behind to mark his presence.

I groaned and tried to sit up by leaning my back against the wall. My entire body was throbbing and the wound on the back of my head had reopened. My face contorted in pain and I fell over, hitting the glass covered floor. My eyes fluttered and I watched as the bat-like creature morphed into the count. His eyes were red with fury and he had a long scratch mark on his face, which marred his fathomless beauty. As he approached me, the wound healed, restoring his enigmatic and seductive aura. He bent down and offered me his hand, but I scowled and slid away from him.

"Where the hell were you?" I asked, hatred brewing inside of me. "That 'thing' would have had my head if you'd been a second late."

The count stood and narrowed his eyes. "Do you really want to know?" he said soothingly.

"Yes," I growled. I was in no mood for any excuses.

"I was... I was hunting." He took of his cape and set it down on the floor. His sword was hanging from his waist, naked. It was stained with blood.

"YOU WERE WHAT?" I cried as I eyed the sword. "You didn't bother to tell me this before hand? I was worried. I thought something terrible had happened."

"You were...worried, Isabelle? About me? That's awfully kind of you, but I was the one who should have been doing the worrying. If the Grim Reaper had killed you, my plans would have been annihilated." He took off the sword and placed it next to his cloak.

"That was the Grim Reaper? What was he talking about? What's going on?" I yelled. "I have the right to know!" My heart was beating furiously and I was so angry my body started to tremble.

"Unfortunately for you, my dear, I am not granting you that right," he said swiftly, ignoring my protests. "You are...too young to understand." He headed towards the exit.

"I AM NOT A CHILD! AND DON'T YOU CALL ME DEAR **EVER** AGAIN! I HATE YOU! I HATED YOU THE MOMENT I SAW YOU! YOU SLAUGHTER PEOPLE JUST TO DRINK THEIR BLOOD! HOW MANY LIVES HAVE YOU TAKEN? 500? 600? YOU ARE A MUDERER AND I WISH THE GRIM REAPER HAD KILLED ME! ANYPLACE IS BETTER THAN BEING HERE WITH YOU!" I screamed at him.

Without thinking, I strode over to the table, grabbed the sword, and charged at him. The blade was an inch from his chest when I hesitated. Beads of sweat started to line my forehead and my hand shook. To my horror, I realized that no matter how much I hated him, I could not extinguish his presence.

"Can't do it, can you?" he said softly. "That's a trait you got from your mother." He smiled and took hold of the sword. Blood spilled from his hand but he didn't even cringe. Instead, he pulled the blade closer, so the tip of it was right on top of where his heart would have been, if the demon had one.

"Do it," he commanded, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You know you want to." He flicked his head back to get a dark strand of hair out of his face as he watched me closely. I was under his charm again. I could feel it.

I shook my head and tried to back away, but he grabbed my waist and dragged me to him, so that my body was in direct contact with his. I had never been this close to the count before and the power that was generating from him was insurmountable. I was well aware that he was attempting to seduce me and I wanted none of it. Then again...

"I won't send you back to hell," I sneered. "You have no heart, anyway... that must be a grave punishment. Therefore, I refuse." To prove my point, I dropped the sword to the ground. He chuckled faintly and did not let me go. My brain told me to fight his embrace, but my body was exhausted and my head hurt tremendously. I did not struggle and to my dismay, I felt my legs buckle as I collapsed against his chest. He caught me before I hit the ground and I tried to think about what was happening but I couldn't. My brain was fuzzy and my vision was dotted with little black circles.

"Isabelle, you're bleeding to death..." he whispered. He picked me up swiftly and my world started to spin out of control as my perception of gravity changed. I sensed that he was walking, carrying me in his arms, but I wasn't sure because my eyesight was so disarranged. All I thought of was my father and how much I would miss him...

Author's Note: Don't worry, I am well aware that even if Isabelle had stabbed Vladislaus, he wouldn't have died. He knew that too, that's why he was taunting her about it.


	6. Trusting a Vampire

Author's Note: Some of the quotes from this chapter have been taken directly from the movie _Van Helsing_. If you have a problem with this, do not read further.  
  
**Chapter 6 – Trusting a Vampire**  
  
I woke to darkness. The only light that existed was coming from a candle, which was burning next to me. My body felt like it had been stabbed by a hundred needles and my head ached excruciatingly. I could only focus for a few seconds at a time and then I was forced to close my eyes or else I knew I would black out again. The room was unearthly quiet, but I was able detect another presence there besides myself. I ignored it, knowing it was the count. I could tell by the intensity in the atmosphere. 

By making my body lay motionless, I wanted the count to believe I was still sleeping so I could think properly. However, I had no such luck, for he was extremely perceptive to what was going on around him and he emerged from the shadows just a few seconds after I awakened. His hair was drawn back, away from his face, and secured by a silver clip. I glowered at him fiercely and turned from him, so that if he wanted to hold a conversation, he would have to talk to the back of my head.

To my utmost surprise, he sat on the bed and laid a hand on my shoulder. A shiver went down my spine and I tried not to think how awkward the present situation was. I watched his shadow on the wall to keep my brain averted from the feeling that was lurking deep inside of me. I knew that if he tried anything, I would not be able to stop him. My mind and body were both too weak.

"You lost a lot of blood, Isabelle," he said finally. His voice was peaceful and melodious. "Perhaps the glass was sharper than I thought."

"Is that your form of an apology?" I growled harshly. "It's your fault; YOU'RE the one who crashed through the window. Not everyone is as invincible as you."

"I saved your life," he said, and his hand moved up to my neck. At any second he could strangle me and I would be gone quicker than lightning. "You should be grateful." He began to stroke my hair. My immediate reaction was to curl up against him, but I stayed put. I was determined not to give in.

"Why do you care if I live or not? My father is NEVER going to look here, so your hostage plan has failed. And the Grim Reaper said all I am doing is getting in your way," I snarled viciously. "What do I matter to you?"

The count started to laugh uncontrollably. There was nothing happy about it; his laugh was evil and held no joy. I scowled at the wall and fought to keep myself from screaming.

"More than you know, Isabelle," he said, as his hand grazed my cheek. "More than you will ever know."

I rolled over on to my other side to see if his face was sincere. When he caught my gaze, I reprimanded myself harshly for meeting his eyes. There was no way I could refuse him now. And he knew it.

"You make my skin crawl," I said in a desperate attempt to thwart him. If that line didn't work, then I was a hopeless case.

He raised his eyebrows and bent forward so that his face was extremely close to mine. A strand of his dark hair brushed my cheek. "Well, my dear Isabelle…" he kissed my hand elegantly, "… that's not all I could do with your skin." Before I could argue, he took both my arms in his hands and pinned them down. I wanted to fight back, but I was exhausted and lacked the proper energy to resist. I thought of my father and wondered what he was doing right now. Probably pouring over a book or looking outside a window, waiting for me to return. There would be no going back, though. I was sure of it.

"Why so silent?" The count's voice jolted me back to the present in the dark room with hardly any light. I blinked at him and didn't answer. All the color had left my face.

"Don't fear me, everybody else fears me," he said, and for one moment his tone had a hint of sadness in it. Or was it anger? I couldn't tell.

"I don't fear you," I replied. "I LOATHE you."

"Isabelle," his eyes flashed warningly and he frowned. "I am willing to provide you with some leniency, given your present state. But respect is a must or else I will be entitled to take more… extreme measures." The count rested his stomach lightly on mine, and the look that he gave made me shudder. He knew that I wanted him, but I was fighting my feelings, which were starting to become uncontrollable. I damned his pride and self-assurance. He always thought he was correct, and in this situation, he was. My breathing accelerated and I felt a sort of panic creep into me. My natural instinct was to fight, but I couldn't. Flee? Not even an option. I was trapped underneath the body of a vampire and my rational thinking was deteriorating as he continued to mesmerize me. I could feel my eyes glazing over.

"You will need to be careful about your head," he commented, breaking the eye contact he held with me. "The wound is deep and needs time to heal properly. You humans, I don't know how you have survived all these years without possessing self-rejuvenation. Pity…" he remarked slyly, and got up from the bed, freeing my arms. "It's best that you rest now. If you need anything, either call or ring this bell." He motioned to a tiny bell sitting next to the candle. "Sweet dreams." I watched him leave, and then breathed out a huge sigh of relief. Or was it disappointment? I shivered. Determined not to think that, I rested my bandaged head against a pillow and closed my eyes, letting the darkness take me away from my perplexed feelings.

Music. I could hear it coming from somewhere in the castle. I sat up, my head stinging, but I ignored the pain. I knew that tune. It sounded so familiar, so encompassing that my eyes began to glisten. I got out of the bed and grabbed the candle. I wanted to find out who was making such beautiful music.

The corridor was empty and lit by torches, as usual. The music was louder, and I guessed that it was in this hallway, next to one of my rooms. I listened carefully, and opened the door to the left of my chamber. A small smoking room. Displeased, I slammed the door shut. The tune started to ring in my ears, and my throat closed up as I remembered how, after my mother's death, Gabriel had sat down at our old piano and played this tune over and over. I had pulled at his collar, begging him to go outside and ride with me, but he had kept on playing, the tune jarring my ears and shattering my skull. Now, 15 years later, each note still crunched at my bones with the force of a thousand plow horses. But irregardless, I thought the piece was wonderful, even though it brought to me a grievous amount of horrid memories.

Desperate to find the source of the music, I listened again and chose the room three doors down on my right. Upon opening the door I found myself in an elaborate music room with a shiny oak floor. In the middle was a gorgeous grand piano, and sitting at it was none other than Count Vladislaus Dragulia. How a demon could produce such harmonious music I was unable to understand. He had not commented on my presence, so I took the opportunity to watch him play. My heart started to soften as I realized he was lamenting for something or someone through this music. But could a vampire lament?

"It is very beautiful," I said, blinking away the moisture that had formed around the base of my eyes. "I did not know that in Romania people knew how to perform Fûr Elise with such passion. Or perhaps you are the only one?"

The count sighed heavily and continued to play. "You like Beethoven?" he inquired, his eyes never moving from the piano.

"I adore him and his music. It is unfortunate that I have grown up despising this particular piece," I answered, my heart thumping in rhythm with the music. "You make it so pleasing, though, that all bad notions have been eradicated, at least. I thank you for that."

He did not reply, so I approached the piano. He kept on playing, ignoring the fact that I was advancing on him. When I was right next to his side, I asked, "Will you teach me?"

The count looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. "Teach you what?"

I swallowed hard. "How to play Fûr Elise." I placed the candle on a table that was adjacent to the piano. "I've… I've always wanted to know how to play it, since I was a little girl. My father never had the time, though. He…" I closed my mouth, knowing it was not proper to say untrue things about Gabriel. The count shrugged but did not take his eyes off of me. He was studying me, searching for something, and I grew uncomfortable under his gaze. It was like he could see through me, to the bottom of my soul, and he knew every horrid thing I had done. I shifted awkwardly; my hands were beginning to sweat.

"Very well," he said in his thick accent. "With the storm and everything, I think it wise that you do something productive during your stay here. But on one condition." He stood up and turned so that his entire body was facing me.

"Yes?" I whimpered, realizing for the first time how much taller he was than me. Why did I not notice it before?

"Do you trust me?" He said, while letting his hair down so that it shaded half of his face from view.

"Wha…" I began. The count's eyes flashed and he bared his fangs. I took a step backward.

"You heard what I said," he snapped. "And don't try to lie, Isabelle, I can see inside your mind. Lies do not work with me." He took my arm and flew me out of the music room to the balcony that was connected to it. As I stood on the banister with him, I looked out over the forest, repeating to myself not to look down. I did not want to know how many feet were between the ground and the balcony.

The count flew out into thin air so that he was facing me. I could tell by the expression on his face that I was not going to like what he was about to say next.

"Jump," he commanded, his black wings beating furiously.

"I will not," I retorted, glaring at him.

"If you trust me, you will jump. I will catch you before you hit the ground," he said simply.

"And if I don't?" I said, my face flushing with sweat and the heat of the night.

"Then I will know your true feelings," he replied, his face bathing in the moonlight. If I had not known of his true identity, I would've mistaken him for an angel.

I glanced down. At least 100 feet. Maybe more. I gulped and tried to keep myself from shaking.

_Just do it_, my conscious said. _You know he will catch you. You just don't think you are capable of trusting a vampire. _

_ Has he given me any reason to trust him? _I argued.

_Yes. He rescued you from the wolves and the Grim Reaper. He did not try to rape you last night, even though you were at his mercy. He has had many opportunities to harm you and hasn't. He is keeping you here for some other reason than to draw Gabriel out of __Budapest__. He cares about you, Isabelle. Don't deny it. _

_ He does not. If he cared about me, he wouldn't be a vampire. Demons don't have hearts, remember? _

"On the contrary, Isabelle, demons **do** have hearts," the count said softly. "We just can't use them… our feelings are all dried out. We are tired of the pain that love brings, so we cannot love. Unless… unless we find someone special to rekindle that feeling," he spat, like it was an inconvenience for him to find that special person.

"Fine. If you care about me, you'll catch me," I said, and jumped quickly, eluding his grasp as he lunged for me. The wind rushed up to meet my face, and I was screaming, but no sound was coming from my lungs. The ground was getting closer, the night and snow was dancing around me. I knew that at any second I could be dead. It was only a matter of time. The count would not come. He would not have to kill me himself, he could let earth do it for him. How lucky a vampire…

Then I was in his arms, and I closed my eyes so I did not have to look at his face and see his expression. His wings thrashed vigorously as he flew back up to the balcony. He set me down and I opened my eyes to flee from him, but he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. His eyes were blood red and he seemed to have grown at least a foot in height. He towered over me like a menacing shadow and I resisted the temptation to beg for pardon at his feet.

"THAT WAS NOT WHAT I HAD IN MIND! YOU DID NOT WARN ME, ISABELLE! YOU COULD'VE DIED!" Vladislaus roared, his voice losing the seductive charm and taking on a devilish tone. Scared to death that he was going to transform into Satan right then and there, I scrambled away from him and crouched down next to a plant. He groaned and took on his normal appearance, six foot four with long black hair and a pierced ear.

"Look… I did not expect you to jump, Isabelle. I thought I knew what you were going to do." He folded his hands but did not move. "I know that you don't trust me, so why you jumped I can not comprehend."

I stood up and eyed him apprehensively. "I don't know either." I brushed a strand of reddish-brown hair away from my face so I could see him more clearly. "I suppose…I did it to make your job harder."

He laughed. "Do you think keeping you alive is easier than murdering you? If I had let those wolves kill you, Van Helsing would be dead, and I would be granted my deserved seat next to the devil. The only reason I have spared your life and risked my own is because…" he paused and did not finish his sentence. Instead, he put his hair back up into the clip and brushed past me. At the exit, he turned and said, "If you still wish to know how to play that piece, come here tomorrow morning. I will be ready." With that, he left. __


	7. In the Embrace of the Count

Author's Note: Thank you SO MUCH for your reviews. I really appreciate your support and comments. Keep reading… this chapter is rather exciting! J

**Chapter 7 – In the Embrace of the Count **

I ate dinner that night quickly with no intention of going to bed at a reasonable hour. I was going to search the library until I found some thread of information on why in the hell the count was keeping me here. I only knew a little of my father's story and I wanted to understand how my father and the count were connected. I was sure it went beyond the bonds of rivalry. Something else had happened.

When I entered the library, the fire was dying and the wind outside was howling ferociously. I lit a candle and went to the bookcase where I had found my father's biography. I searched for a book called something like _Knights of the Holy Order _and instead saw a book labeled, _Killing Evil: What You MUST Know_. Why the count would want something like that in his own personal library I could not fathom, but I wasn't about to complain.I sat down in a chair by the sparse fire and opened the book to the Index. Vampires were on page 452.

My hands were numb and I fumbled through the pages, my lips trembling. I was aware of how cold the library had gotten, but I presumed it had something to do with the fire going out. When I reached the page, the heading was written in small, gothic letters that curved and intertwined with each other so that it was barely legible. Underneath the heading was a list of things that could kill vampires. _Holy water, crucifix, cross, silver stake, sunlight_. The book proceeded to tell me how to keep a vampire away, amongst other things. At the end of the chapter was a section called: _Undead Giving Birth to the Living_. It went on to explain that if a vampire and a mortal human mated, the offspring would be born alive and proceed to have a normal life with no hints at all of his/her demonic origins. However, if not introduced to blood by his/her 17th year, the child would die due to internal complications. If the child drank blood, he/she could then choose between living as an immortal vampire, or a mortal human. There was a catch, however. The blood had to come from a **vampire**. If it came from another source, the child would die.

I shivered and shut the book. It did not help me with the search for the connection between Gabriel and Vladislaus, and I was starting to feel lightheaded. I put the book down on a table and went back to the bookcase. I started at the other end, near the A section. The genre was tragedy. My eyes passed over a great many books and if I had the time, I would have liked to read them all. But I was desperate to come across some source of information about the connection Gabriel had with this… I didn't even know what to call the count anymore.

My finger traced over the inscription on a book and when I read the title I jumped. The binding was black as night, but written in tiny, gold letters were the words _Dracula's Demise_. I smiled and withdrew it, knowing I held a wealth of knowledge in my hands. This was what I had been looking for.

I took my seat by the fireplace and opened to the first page. The story started out in the mid-1400s, when the Turks were invading Romania. I was drawn into the book and sat, enthralled, as the words on the page formed an unknown world for me in my mind. People and feelings that I didn't even know existed were brought to life and I flew from chapter to chapter until I arrived at the part where my father entered the story. The author of the book portrayed Gabriel in such a way that I found myself rooting for Dracula and his brides, to my utmost disgust. Anna seemed like a stubborn yet charming girl, but my father was a murderer, a scheming bastard who didn't deserve to live. He did not sound like the Gabriel I knew.

The count was killed again by my father, but only his body had been destroyed, not his soul. I rubbed my temples, confused, for common knowledge taught that the damned did NOT posses souls. It appeared that I had much to learn. The book continued and explained the punishment that awaited Dracula when he descended to his birthplace: hell. 39 lashes were given to the count and then he was harshly reprimanded by the Devil for failing in his "mission." The Devil tortured Vladislaus for 16 long, painful years and then sent him back to fulfill his assignment. Dracula's orders? The same as before: Wreck havoc upon any who stood in the Devil's path of glory, particularly Van Helsing himself. His reward if he succeeded? A seat next to the Dark Lord.

"So basically, Satan is a sluggard who has others do the arduous work for him," I murmured, as I turned the page. My eyes narrowed as I realized that at least three pages had been ripped out and their whereabouts made unknown to me.

"Damn it." I shut the book and tucked it under my arm. I had a slight suspicion that the count had confiscated the pages, but I wasn't going to jump to conclusions. Plus, he was awake somewhere in the castle, doing God knows what. Probably feasting on the blood of some poor thing. I hoped it was an animal and not a human.

I left the library, unaware of the eyes that were following me. My head was aching again and I knew it had to be at least 3 in the morning. The snow storm raged outside and I wondered how long the weather had been like this. At least two days. Maybe more. I drew my cloak around my shoulders and sighed.

My room was quiet and empty, as usual. The curtains were open so some moonlight could stream in, and the snow was making icy streak marks on the window. I glanced up at the woman in the painting and found that she was staring straight back at me. I jumped, did a double take, and when I looked up again, her gaze was focused on my bedpost. I rubbed my eyes, concluding that my lack of sleep was making me hallucinate. Without even thinking more about it, I slipped into a light nightgown and went to bed, the moonlight warming the room with her gentle rays.

I rose early the next morning, for I was still interested in learning how to play Fûr Elise, and I knew the count did not approve of tardiness. I decided to wear a long, Victorian gown, with sleeves that rested on the arms instead of the shoulders. It was a beautiful silk dress, crafted by the most dexterous hands I had ever seen. Maybe the count would forgive me for last night if he was distracted by the gown. It always worked for the young men back home. I was convinced it would work for him also.

When I arrived at the music room, the curtains were shut and candles were lit in lieu of sunlight. My footfalls echoed across the oak floor and I was aware of how loud they seemed. I tried to walk with more elegance, but the sound just grew louder. I gave up and sat in front of the piano, resting my hands on the white keys and admiring the fine workmanship. Clearly, the count had spared no expense. It was a piano made for a noble, an aristocrat bathing in the splendors of wealth and freedom. But at the same time, Vadislaus's wealth and freedom came at a terrible price: an eternal bond to the devil.

The door creaked behind me and I knew the count had entered. I ignored his presence and studied the keys. I placed my thumb on middle C and pressed down the note, wary of how it would sound. When the count had played on the piano, the tune had been flawless, pure and virginal, like a quintessential maiden in the prime of her youth. But when I played it, the piano jarred and screeched, making me cringe and throw up my hands in despair. I did not have the gift that the count possessed. And that made me feel ashamed.

"Isabelle," he said softly. I couldn't hear him approaching, but I was able to tell that he was coming towards me because of the shadow he cast on the wall. I kept my eyes trained on the ground and did not look up when he reached over my shoulder and placed the music on the stand.

"Usually, someone who is an amateur at the piano should not attempt to learn Fûr Elise unless she is given further instruction on the scales," he said. "However, I believe that if you have a dire wish to play it, your heart with overcome your incompetence."

He stood behind me and bent down so that his face was close to mine. "Do you know how to play anything?" he asked sincerely, with no hint of mockery in his voice.

I nodded. "Good King Wenceslas and some other simple Christmas tunes. But I don't know if…"

"Wonderful. Play it."

My hands shook as I tried to remember what Gabriel had taught me. I did not wish to anger the count and I wanted to make him believe I was capable of playing Fûr Elise. He appeared to be no longer upset with me but I didn't know if it had to do with the dress or just the fact that he had forgotten. Either way, I was not wiling to refuel his volatile temper again. But I just couldn't recall what note to start with…

"Can you remember it?" he inquired. His tone was still gentle, and I knew lying to him was useless. If he got angry, then I would just have to deal with it.

"No," I whispered. "It was so long ago…"

"Very well, Isabelle, we will begin with Fûr Elise then. Start on note E." He motioned to a white key with his hand.

I played the note. "Very good. Now E flat. That is the black key to the left of note E. Use your ring finger." I followed his instructions perfectly, afraid that if I made even one small mistake he would unleash his wrath upon me again.

"Wonderful. Now you play those two notes a total of three consecutive times before moving on to this key, B. Do you think you can handle that?" he asked gently.

"I'm Gabriel's daughter. Of course I can." I played the notes correctly, but the tune still sounded vulgar to my ears. I wondered if it had something to do with my hearing or if it was just my imagination. The count seemed oblivious to my internal conflict.

"Now after B is D, then C, then A. Play those accurately and I will be much pleased, Isabelle," he said. His breath was warm and soothing to my skin. I resisted the urge to look over at him.

I played the notes exactly right, and I could feel a smile forming at the corners of my lips. But the sound of the piano was ruining my joyful accomplishment. I frowned instead, grateful that he was not paying attention to my expression.

"Excellent. Now from the beginning," he said as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. I swallowed hard and told myself not to panic.

"Note E," I told myself, "...and then E flat." I could feel my legs quivering and I took a deep breath.

"OK. Now B," I whispered as I began to press down the note. My hand was shaking terribly and I gasped in horror as I played C instead of B.

"No, no, Isabelle, here," he said, and he placed his hand on top of mine, ceasing the uncontrollable trembling. "You're frightened," the count said, but he did not remove his hand. "Do I frighten you?"

"Sometimes," I answered reluctantly, scared of the satisfaction that my confession would bring to him. He did not answer, and I could feel my body relax next to his. I was giving in…

"You know, Isabelle," he said huskily, "You remind me so much of your mother it almost makes me wish that I was human again." His lips began to caress my neck, and I wondered what would happen if he bit me. Would I feel pain? Or would it be something like a gratifying sensation?

"But there is also your father's capricious spirit," he murmured in my ear. The count's hair brushed against my neck, instigating immediate pleasure that surged throughout my entire body. I closed my eyes, tired of keeping my guard up. It wasn't worth it. His seductive charm was too potent.

"Which I admire under some circumstances, detest under others," he continued, and I felt his arm wrap around me, drawing me up into his strong embrace.

"Exactly why do you detest his spirit, Vladislaus?" I purred contently.

The count stopped kissing my neck and inhaled sharply. "Say it again," he demanded.

"Say what again?" I said deliriously, furrowing my brow. I did not know what he was talking about.

"My name. It is the first time you have called me by my true name."

"Vladislaus?"

"Yes, my dear, yes," he replied, as he drew me closer to him. I looked into his eyes and saw that they no longer contained a monster, but a beautiful creature trapped in the shackles of Satan. If only he knew of the chains that ensnared him.

"How did you cope with it for 16 years? The scourging and the torture? Is it worth the pain just so you can have your spot next to the devil? Is it worth killing my father?" I said, my voice rising accusingly. My heart grieved for the pain he had endured and I could almost feel the agony that was searing through him like wildfire.

Vladislaus wrapped both of his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. "I thought so until you came along. Now I am not so sure." My jaw dropped and I stared at him stupidly, not believing what he had said.

He smiled, the first smile I had seen that did not have malice coated behind it, and kissed me. I let all rational thoughts leave my brain and returned the kiss, filling it with as much understanding and passion that I could muster. His lips were cold, but my warmth spread to him unchecked, and I could sense something awakening inside of him. He ran his left hand down the small of my back and I started to wonder what was driving him. Was it lust? Loneliness? Boredom? Love? There was no way, vampires could not love. They were hollow. Even if Vladislaus had a heart, like he had claimed, it was not beating. So did he love me? COULD he love me? Or was he just using me, like he had used Marishka, Verona, and Aleera? I was forced to remember that he was created and ruled by evil. But I didn't want to remember. I wanted to let all of that go and spend the rest of my life with him, regardless of how he felt about me. But the Grim Reaper had said…

I broke from his kiss and went over to a wall where a painting of Napoleon Bonaparte was. I needed to think, but I found it difficult when I could feel his eyes on me. My gaze traveled to the picture and I pretended to be studying it intently, but the answer was not hidden within the folds of Napoleon's tattered uniform. I had to figure it out myself.

"Isabelle," Vladislaus said as he slinked both of his arms around my waist. "I'm really not as evil as you might like to believe," he whispered seductively. "At least not towards you, anyway."

I turned around to face him, my expression incredulous. "That night. After the Grim Reaper. Why did you not try to seduce me then? Why did you wait till now? I was much weaker. I wouldn't have been able to fight you."

"Ah," he said while brushing a wisp of hair out of my eyes. "But you were not willing."

"But how do you know if I…" he stopped my mouth with another kiss, but this time, it was much more insistent. I gave in, not because I felt that I had to, but because I wanted to. I reprimanded myself for succumbing to temptation. I knew I would face retribution later.

Author's Note: Long chapter, yes, but there was no way I could make it shorter without ruining the story. PLEASE REVIEW and tell me what you think!


	8. Battling Demons

Author's Note: WARNING: This chapter contains intense blood and violence.

**Chapter 8 – Battling Demons**

"I want to see Tynan." Vladislaus looked up from the book he was reading with a very dull expression. It was after my second piano lesson and he had insisted upon studying in the library until dinner time came. I had just finished reading Homer's _The Odyssey _in Latin and sitting in an extremely comfortable chair had made me think of my dapple grey stallion. I wanted to know of his welfare.

"Very well," he said shortly and shut his book, _Paradise__ Lost_.My eyes widened in surprise at his willingness to grant my wish, but I wasn't going to comment on it. Vladislaus had been acting a lot more anxious than normal since we had kissed. He disliked letting me out of his sight and even offered to teach me how to wield a sword. Of course, I had refused. Sword fighting was not considered proper for a lady and I was sure he knew that. So why had he asked?

"Take my arm, Isabelle, and I will show you where your horse is stabled. But it comes with a price." A devilish grin spread across his face. I took his arm, watching him attentively to see what he meant.

"I want to taste your blood," Vladislaus said, his eyes glittering with lust and passion. I tore my eyes away from his to keep from becoming hypnotized. I needed sensible thoughts to decide on my answer.

"It might hurt, but I give you my word that I will not drain you. I only want a sip…" he said as he ran a long-fingered hand down my neck. I shivered.

"How do I know if you will keep your word?" I asked, careful to keep my voice steady.

"You will just have to trust me," he replied.

"Can I trust you not to hypnotize me if I look at you?" I inquired apprehensively.

"Yes."

I looked up at him and stared into nothing but his dark raven eyes. He had kept his promise. But that didn't mean that if I let him bite me that he would stop after a couple drops. I knew from the book _Killing Evil: What You MUST Know_ that once a vampire started to feed, it was nearly impossible for him/her to end a much enjoyed feast. But he wasn't a normal vampire.

"All right." My voice shook, and my rational thinking screamed at me to reconsider, but I ignored it. I had gone too far now to be put off by a little bit of pain. And I missed Tynan more every second.

Vladislaus raised his eyebrows. "I am impressed, Isabelle. I did not know one could love someone so much as to risk her own life for him. He is only a horse."

"Clearly, you have a lot to learn about the ways of love," I answered. "And I do not believe that you will kill me. I have been in your possession for too long and you have "rescued" me too many times. But then again, I am getting in the way of your mission to murder my father and receiving your seat next to the devil…"

He chuckled softly and bent down so that his lips brushed against my neck. I cringed and my body tensed up, but when he did not bite I felt myself relax. What was he trying to do?

"Oh Isabelle, you are so young and so naïve. Consider this a vampire's kiss…" with those words he sunk his razor-sharp fangs into my skin.

Pain. An unbelievable amount of pain. It was like my body was being sucked dry by some unseen force. My head began to throb and I whimpered while arching my back and struggling against the firm grip he had on me. I could feel blood, my own blood, running from my neck and on to the floor. I was being suffocated and as he tightened his hold on me, I shouted his name. My fists pounded on his back, useless against his lethal embrace. All I could think of was the amount of blood I was losing… I dug at his neck with my fingernails, desperate to be set free.

Vladislaus snarled and pulled away. I pushed him so that I was no longer within contact of his arms. His mouth was coated in blood and as he raised his sleeve to wipe it away, I took the opportunity to get as far from him as possible.

"Isabelle, calm down. It was only three drops. You act like you have been violated. I kept my word, and so did you… in a sense. We can go to the stables now if you like." His tone had turned remotely cold and distant.

My stomach heaved and I fought to keep up with my lungs, which where begging for more air than I could muster. I ran my hand along my neck and felt two tiny puncture marks, but no blood. He hadn't been lying. I took a deep breath and looked at him.

The wounds I had inflicted upon his neck were healing, but I could sense that he was angry about it. His eyes were burning and the evil that was radiating from him made me feel queasy.

"You can't die by the stake, can you?" I asked, watching in disgust as he licked his fangs.

"Clever girl. It only took you several days to figure that one out," he snapped; his thick accent made his words sting. My eyes began to water at the sharpness of his voice. It reminded me of a shattered stain-glass window, a window that could not be pieced back together.

"So you cannot be killed?" I said, keeping my voice low and almost inaudible. But he heard me.

"Oh yes, I can be killed. But not by any weapon a mortal can wield. Not even your father, Isabelle, although in his werewolf form, was able to wreck much destruction upon me. He could never truly extinguish my presence. That's why I am back. Well, I was sent back, but you probably know all about that, since you felt the urge to plunder through that damned book. Why I did not dispose of it I cannot understand…" his voice rambled off, but I heard nothing past "that damned book." He had been spying on me. Probably the entire time I had been at the castle he had been spying on me. For what purpose?

I decided not to bring that matter up. He appeared extremely tense and one wrong move could be the result of my death, even if he didn't mean it. He was a demon and a killer first, before anything else. And that could not be changed, no matter how much I wanted it so. It was not within my power.

"May I go see Tynan now?" I said, praying that he would not be angered by my persistent request. He sighed and then nodded solemnly. I followed him out of the library and when we were in the hallway I took his hand. He kept on looking forward and walked faster. I had to run to keep up with his long strides. I tried to keep track of where we were going, but there were so many twists and turns, doors and hallways, that I gave up after the first five minutes.

"Is there an entrance to your castle?" I asked, glancing up at him.

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "The only way to get in here is to fly in," he said, his voice coated with spite. "However, Floor 2, as you call it, does have a door that opens out into the forest. The only reason I have a door there is to "entertain" guests with my ballroom that I built in 1461. That door is your only means of freedom, Isabelle, but remember what I told you would happen if you tried to escape."

"I wasn't planning on it, _count,_" I said, replying in the same heinous tone. I wrenched my hand from his grasp and took to admiring the paintings to pass time. He said nothing, but I noticed that he had his right hand on the hilt of his sword. Who was going to attack us in his own castle?

Vladislaus led me through a door and I found myself in a remote hallway. On one side was a consecutive line of twelve medieval knights, their armor glimmering in the weak light. On the other side was a series of paintings done by the famed artist Leonardo da Vinci. I wanted to touch one of the knight's swords but he hissed and batted my hand away.

"Do not touch that."

At the end of the hallway were two large oak doors that had a statue of a black stallion rearing above them. The horse had red eyes. Vladislaus spoke a word in a language I did not understand and the doors swung open, revealing Tynan's finely sculpted head. He whinnied and reared up, nearly freeing himself from the stall he was in.

"My love, how have you been?" I said, placing a hand on his muzzle. He seemed to be in wonderful physical shape and his coat gleamed like silver. Clearly, he had been well taken care of. I made a mental note of thanks to God for that.

"He looks great," I commented to Vladislaus. When the count did not answer, I turned around to see that he was no longer there. I shook my head, kissed Tynan's nose, and continued down the row of stalls. The stalls were spacious and airy; my only compliant was the lack of light, for there were no windows. I was about to go back to Tynan when I heard a muffled yelp.

I spun around, trying to locate the source of the noise. I could hear banging and as I walked faster past the stalls, the noise grew louder. There was another horse in the stables.

When I arrived at the stall where the noise was coming from, I was in awe. The most beautiful black stallion was there, his eyes glowing a fierce red and teeth bared. He was the biggest horse I had ever seen, and his forelock was so long it shaded half of his face from view. He reminded me of a splendid warhorse, like the ones that I had seen in pictures. Their muscles rippled under the sun and their coats shined so bright it was hard to look upon them. Men would tremble at their feet and flee when they were coming. The power that they held was enough to even counter the wrath of the devil himself. And here I was, five feet away from one.

"Jovan," Vladislaus said behind me. I did not remove my eyes from the stallion as he came up next to me, his footfalls making hardly a sound on the rough cobblestone. "His name is Jovan."

"_Jovan_," I said softly. The name sounded familiar. Where had I heard it before?

"Is that Latin for…" I began as I struggled to remember.

"Majestic, yes," he answered, his voice swelling with pride. "This horse has born me well and has never faltered in loyalty. I have never once questioned his obedience…" Vladislaus reached out to stroke the horse, which willingly came to the front of his stall to be petted. I marveled at how a horse would let a demon touch him. Then again, Jovan didn't appear to be just any ordinary stallion…

"He's gorgeous," I breathed, admiring the horse's glossy coat. I could have groomed Tynan thoroughly three times a day and his coat would never look like this, no matter how much effort I put into it. It just wasn't possible.

"Come here, he won't harm you," Vladislaus said, motioning me forward with his hand. I gulped and took a shaky step towards him, watching the horse carefully in case he decided to lash out at me. But Jovan made no such effort. He was content as long as his master was present.

Vladislaus took my hand gently and placed it on the horse's neck. His fur felt like soft velvet, and I smiled as I stroked the smooth skin. Jovan closed his eyes and lifted his head; he was obviously enjoying my touch.

"He has not felt the hand of a female for so long, Isabelle. It makes him much more docile. Pity it doesn't work on all of us, isn't it?" He wrapped an arm around my waist, but I did not remove my hand from Jovan's neck. His coat was so soothing to my skin…

"Don't you dare bite me again," I said warningly, as I let my hand run through the fine strands of the stallion's luxurious mane. Jovan nickered and his eye color turned from a blazing red to a much more calm and placid brown. I wondered at this.

"Now, don't soften my warhorse into liking humans," Vladislaus whispered in my ear; his breath made my skin prickle. "He is an effective killing machine that must not be tampered with." His lips grazed the sensitive flesh on the back of my neck, which caused me to tingle with pleasure. I automatically arched my body into contact with his, but then I realized how dangerous the present situation was and tore myself away from his grasp. I heard him hiss behind me. It was obvious that he was not expecting me to fight him.

"I'm just full of surprises. I guess not even someone as powerful as you can predict what I am going to do next," I said recklessly, chewing on my bottom lip as I continued to caress the horse. Jovan sighed, nudged my arm gingerly with his nose, and then returned to the back of his stall to continue his interrupted feast of hay. I grinned, but the grin changed to a shriek as I felt Vladislaus grab me by the neck. I turned around slowly, careful not to meet his gaze.

"You're a sly one, Isabelle. Very sly… like your father. But you do not know that you are only a puppet on my string. You're not strong enough to fight. I am the MASTER here, Isabelle, and if you have a problem with it, then you will face the consequences." He picked me up, his hand still firmly on my neck, and I struggled for air as he smiled up at me. I heard Tynan neigh, his tone was filled with concern, but not even my beloved horse could save me.

"You truly are a demon," I choked out, feeling extremely betrayed and alone. I had trust him, been tricked into the thought that he cared about me, and now here, in the witness of my helpless best friend, he would kill me and extract his revenge on my father. I had fallen prey to his trap.

"I'm only as evil as you believe me to be," he replied, and lowered me to the ground. I bolted away from him, tears blurring my vision. I threw open Tynan's stall door, grabbed his mane, and dragged him out of the stables. I saw the count flying toward me in his bat form, but I shut the doors firmly in his face. They locked automatically.

"Tynan, please, run," I cried, and I took a firm hold of his mane and swung up onto his back. He did not waste any time and launched into a full-fledged gallop, his eyes wide. My sudden urgency to escape was making him excited, and as we round the hallway, past the magnificent paintings and knights, I spotted a window hidden behind a door. If I was lucky, Tynan and I could both fit.

"GO!" I screamed at him. I could hear Vladislaus cursing and yelling in rage down the hall. Any second he would break out of the stables to tear us apart. I knew that it was not in the nature of vampires to be merciful.

"Please, Tynan, please," I begged, my voice almost drowned in tears. "Just JUMP!"

My stallion laid back his ears and took a step in the opposite direction. He seemed to be saying that the window was not the safe way out of the castle. I could tell he did not understand my insistence on condemning both of us to certain death.

"I KNOW IT IS NOT A GOOD ESCAPE PLAN TYNAN! WE DON'T HAVE TIME! JUST JUMP!" I dug my heels into his ribs but he did not move. Frantic, I grabbed a sword from the knight next to me, but it wouldn't break free from its sheath.

"_Acquiro**,**_" I shouted, my tongue involuntarily falling into Latin, given my present state. The sword slid out of its sheath, nearly blinding me with a white ray of light. It was none too soon, for Vladislaus had broken through the oak doors and was now flying at me with a fathomless expression in his eyes. I grimaced in pain as the hilt of the sword started to burn my skin, but I would not let go. I knew the weapon could not save our lives, but I was determined to injure him regardless. When he was just inches from me, Vladislaus morphed into his vampire form, and I caught two words before I was thrown from Tynan's back:

"No Isabelle!" I landed on my side and did not move; the wind had been knocked out of me. The Grim Reaper tore the sword from my grasp and spun around to meet Vladislaus, who was racing towards me. He stopped abruptly and froze.

"I warned you, Vlad, that if you continued to disobey my master, you would be punished. I will kill you and send you back with the damned souls, where you belong. Gabriel will be dealt with by _me _now, since you have proven once again that you are not worthy to do my master's bidding." The Grim Reaper took a step toward him, the sword blazing white. I did not understand how the spirit was going to kill him. Vladislaus couldn't die…

"Pity that the one you "loved" would be the cause of your ultimate destruction," the Reaper said mockingly. "Had she known of the weapon she withdrew, she would never have drawn it in the first place. But then again, you underestimate the role humans can have in determining your fate."

Vladislaus captured my eye contact and motioned towards another knight with his eyebrows. _He wants me to get a sword for him? Why can't he do it himself?_ I glared at him, but he shot me a pleading look and I sighed. Clearly he wanted me to think he was in some kind of danger…

_But you can't die_, I told him silently.

He shook his head insistently as he backed away from the Reaper. _Get the sword, Isabelle… NOW! _ I groaned and crawled over to a knight while Vladislaus taunted the Reaper. I was willing to play his little game, of course, but only for so long. Who I was really concerned about were Tynan and myself. The Reaper would surely murder us… and as much as I hated to admit it, I did prefer the count over the bringer of death. If I was going to die by anyone's hand, I wanted it to be his.

"_Acquiro_," I whispered, and the sword sprang free. My hand burned with excruciating pain, but I managed to throw it at Vladislaus before collapsing back on the ground. That horrible bloodsucker owed me…

The Grim Reaper howled in anger and strode towards my limp body, raising his sword in an effort to strike. Tynan stepped in front of him, his eyes daring the spirit to take one more step forward.

"No, Tynan," I whined. "He'll kill you…" I watched in horror as the Reaper thrust his sword into my beloved stallion's chest. Tynan screamed in agony and fell to his knees, but kept his ears pinned to his head. The spirit was about to finish off my horse when Vladislaus stabbed him from the back.

"Don't touch them," he murmured, his eyes glowing with contempt. The Reaper swung at Vladislaus, but stopped in mid-air when he saw that the count was wielding **two** swords, the white one I had given him and the one from his scabbard.

"Surprise," Vladislaus said, his voice dripping with animosity. And then they entered the most violent and intense sword-fight that I had ever seen. Their movements were too fast for my eyes; everything was a blur. I forgot about Vladislaus for a moment and slithered my way over to Tynan. His eyes were open and the wound on his chest was bleeding profusely. I held back a sob as I placed my hand on his shoulder. I knew in my heart that he was not going to make it. I laid my head down on his neck and watched as the vampire and bringer of death dueled to keep my mind off of the fate of my horse. I gasped in shock as the Reaper slashed through Vladislaus's clothing, carving a deep gash in his chest. The wound did not heal and I saw a flicker of pain in his eyes before it was replaced by something much more powerful: abhorrence.

"How did that feel, my little pet?" The Reaper said, laughing. The window behind me broke, sending a cold gust of wind into the hallway. I shivered and tried to protect Tynan's body from the chill by draping myself over him. He was too weak to stir.

Vladislaus caught the spirit's sword and brought it to the ground so that it got stuck in the wood. He then shoved the white sword into the Reaper's chest, so far that I could see it peeking out of the spirit's backside. The sight made me feel nauseous.

"Now you know how it feels to be seconds away from death," Vladislaus growled, blood running from his wound and onto the oak floor. "Too bad you can't be there when I die too, brother. Now go to hell." He then ripped out the sword and sliced off the Reaper's head. The spirit dissolved, leaving only a ragged and torn black cloak behind.

Vladislaus's hands were shaking so hard he dropped both swords. He looked at me and I knew that look instantly. It was a look of farewell. "No," I sobbed, my heart breaking. "You can't…"

It took ages for him to fall. It was graceful, almost like a movement in a waltz, and his body bent elegantly before collapsing on the ground in a defeated heap. I heard screaming, and wondered where in the hell it was coming from. It sounded like a helpless soul being forced to watch her lover die. And then I realized that I was the one who was screaming.

Author's Note: (Holds up invisible shield) I promise that this is not the end, I have at least five more chapters to go, if not more. I assure you that the next chapter will be much more uplifting. Then again, if I don't get reviews, I just might change my mind… (Grins wickedly and then runs away)


	9. Breaking Trust & Breaking Hearts

**Chapter 9 – Breaking Trust & Breaking Hearts **

Blood. There was blood everywhere. I stood up slowly, my legs trembling violently as I used my horse's dying body to support myself. My head was pounding and I felt sick to my stomach.

"I'll be back, Tynan, hang on," I uttered gently to the horse. He was breathing hard and his coat was blanketed with sweat, despite the frigid temperature. I patted his neck and rested my hand on a wall. Scared to death of what I would find, I made the long, strenuous walk towards Vladislaus's lifeless body. I mouthed a silent prayer, begging God to grant him forgiveness and some sort of salvation. But I didn't think God listened when it came to demons. They were not of his concern.

I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp when I reached his body. It looked like he had taken a bath in blood. All of his apparel was stained, and both of the swords were coated. I knew it was his own blood, for the Grim Reaper could not bleed. My heart sunk to my stomach and I had to swallow hard in order not to throw up.

Quivering like a newborn colt, I bent down next to him and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. His eyes were glazed over, but his chest was rising and falling, a sure sign that he was alive. However, his breathing was growing shallower by the minute and I knew that he had very little time.

I gritted my teeth and undid his shirt. I needed to know how bad the wound was. My fingers were numb and my head ached, but I was able to slide the soiled garment off his chest to reveal the gash. My eyes filled with fresh tears at the sight. It ran from his right shoulder blade down to the left side of his ribcage, where a piece of the Reaper's sword had broken off and gotten trapped in the thin layer of skin. No human could have survived that injury.

Working fast, I ripped off a section of my dress and applied direct pressure to the wound. I debated on whether or not to remove the object, for I did not know if taking it away would have a positive or negative effect on his condition. However, when I noticed that the area around the piece of sword was turning blue, I slid my nail under it and bit my tongue. I counted to three and ripped the object out. He did not make a sound.

"Now to get you out of here," I said as I finished wrapping the cut. There was no way I could carry a full grown man back to the library, and I didn't even know where the library was. I glanced down at Tynan; he was still breathing. My horse gave me an idea.

"Jovan," I crooned, taking his silver halter down from its peg. "I need you to cooperate." The stallion studied me carefully, and when he concluded that my intentions were true, he stepped forward.

"That's my beautiful boy. Now, your master needs help, Jovan. He has been gravely injured. You must follow me and do exactly as I ask." I didn't know if the horse understood me, but I felt better knowing I had told the stallion what was going on. He pricked up his ears and nodded.

Smiling, I unlatched the stall door. Figuring that he would follow me, I headed back to Vladislaus, supported by the sound of hooves behind me. When we arrived at the count's body, Jovan sniffed his master and tried to roll him over.

"No, Jovan, no, please. I need you to help me take him to the library. Do you know where that is?" I asked, desperate. This horse was my only means of comfort.

The horse seemed to shrug and bent down on his knees, obviously wanting me to put Vladislaus on his back.

"You're such a clever boy," I said, as I picked up the count's body, abandoning his tattered shirt. To my surprise, his skin was soft and smooth, unlike the hard, coarse leather that I had imagined. With a grunt, I managed to swing Vladislaus over Jovan's back in such a way that I knew he was secure for the time being. The horse whinnied and rose from the ground gingerly, eager for my next set of instructions.

"Well, um, to the library, I suppose," I told him, wondering how it would look to someone if he or she caught me holding a conversation with a horse. I would probably be accused of witchcraft and burned.

Jovan walked forward, his graceful strides keeping Vladislaus perfectly balanced. My eyes narrowed as I spotted a series of scars crisscrossing all over the count's back. Upon further inspection, I discovered that they were scourge marks. The skin had been torn so many times that the wounds had failed to heal properly, making the scars look fresh and recent. I grimaced and looked away. It seemed blasphemous to me that the devil could do such a thing to his own son. Then again, the devil _himself_ was blasphemous. It did not surprise me that he felt no shame inflicting intolerable agony on Vladislaus.

I placed one hand on the stallion's neck, for reassurance only, as we were approaching my horse. Tynan had stopped breathing and when we passed by him, I knew my beloved friend was dead. I shut my eyes to avoid tears. My heart tore in two for I knew I had chosen to save Dracula over him. And that choice was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Jovan and I managed to get out of the hallway and past the broken window. When we rounded the turn, I found that we were at the entrance to the library. My mind was too concerned with Vladislaus's condition to question our quick arrival and each second that passed was drawing me unwillingly closer to the count's impending death.

We entered the library at a brisk pace and I motioned Jovan towards a long couch that was positioned close to the fire. I drug Vladislaus down from the horse and arranged his body on the couch so that his face was bathing in the light from the fire. It couldn't do him any harm.

"OK, now I need some sort of medicine. Jovan, do you know where the count keeps some sort of antiseptic cream? Something to prevent the wound from becoming infected?" The horse bobbed his head and left the library, his tail swishing languidly behind him. Jovan **definitely** wasn't an ordinary stallion. The name "majestic" suited him perfectly.

I bent down next to Vladislaus and placed my hand on his forehead. It was icy cold. I didn't know if that was a good or bad sign, given the fact that he was a vampire and vampires reacted differently to the effects of shock. My knowledge in the field of medicine was limited to only what I had read, and I was unsure about what to do next.

"Vladislaus?" I said, my voice shaking slightly. "Vladislaus, can you here me?"

No response. He just gazed lifelessly at the mantle. I closed his eyes quickly, not wanting to accept the fact that he was dying. The Lord of the Vampires would be depending on me to save his life, and that thought made me feel insufficient and inferior, the opposite of what I expected.

My morals told me to let him die, but as I studied him under the firelight, I knew I couldn't. He was a murderer, yes, and if I healed him, he would continue his reign of terror and slaughter upon thousands more of innocent souls. He cared not for others, and his feelings had long since left him. But he **had** felt one quick second of pain, when the Grim Reaper cut him, and that told me that maybe he wasn't a hopeless case. Maybe I could save him from more than just death.

Jovan had returned with a bottle of salve, clean bandages, and a blanket. How he knew where all of that stuff was located I had no idea. I was just grateful that I had all of the supplies that I needed in my possession.

"You are such an intelligent horse, Jovan. If you want, you can stay here, or go back to the stables. I am not going to tell you what to do," I told him, while taking the supplies from his mouth. The horse nickered and then took a place behind the couch so that he could keep an eye on his master. I smiled and got to work.

Blood had soaked through the temporary bandage and was now in danger of staining the couch. I removed the ripped piece of my dress and wiped away the oozing access. Breathing heavily, my forehead furrowed in concentration, I applied the salve. It filled the room with a wonderful aroma, taking away some of the stink that blood made. When I finished, the infected skin was beginning to turn from blue to white, a sure sign that the salve was working.

"Jovan, I believe he is going to make it," I said, in a desperate attempt to convince myself. The horse only shook his mane in reply.

I bandaged the wound slowly, cautious of the rough contact cloth made with torn and bloody skin. It couldn't be the most pleasant sensation in the world, even for a vampire who was unconscious.

Jovan and I stayed with him the rest of the afternoon, well into the evening. The stallion brought me food, but I was too worried to eat. The bleeding had stopped but he was not waking up. At times I found myself involuntarily staring at him; it was true that even though he was born and raised in hell, his beauty surpassed that of any man. It wasn't a genuine beauty; it was more like a fathomless beauty, a beauty that was renowned for being much more intriguing. _And_ much more seductive.

Later that night, when Jovan had returned to the stables, I snuggled underneath a blanket and watched the count out of the corner of my eye, just in case he woke up. The fire was dying, but every so often sparks would fly, forcing me to get up and stamp them out. My eyes drooped with exhaustion but I was afraid to fall asleep. The count might blame me for his injury or even worse, he could still be angry with me because of the lack of respect I had shown for him in the stables. I wanted to be awake when it happened to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.

The snowstorm howled outside of the castle walls, furious that it could not extinguish the already dying fire within. I saw Vladislaus stir uneasily and then I harshly reprimanded myself for taking the blanket. It belonged on him, not me.

I gathered the blanket up in my hands and covered him with it, hoping my body heat might do the healing process some good. I sat down on the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin and smoothing the wrinkles out. As much as I wished to deny it, there was not one ounce of fat anywhere on his body. Instead, the needed insulation had been replaced by rock hard muscle. One benefit of being a vampire. Perhaps the only benefit.

My hands traveled up to his face, to his lips. They were cool to the touch, but not unpleasant. Maybe the blanket was helping after all. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but I restrained myself when I thought of Tynan. My horse was dead because I had chosen to save the count. I didn't think I could ever truly believe it. Alleged foe over best friend. There was one for the books. And what confused me even more was that I hated him. Or I thought I did.

Sighing, I brushed a few wisps of dark hair behind his ear, dissatisfied with his disheveled appearance. He was going to be furious when he woke. Well, better that he take his wrath out on me instead of an unsuspecting peasant. At least I had a small chance of survival.

I laid my head down on his chest, thoroughly beat and too lazy to return to my chair. He wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, so I presumed there was no harm in taking a short nap on his chest. He was rather comfortable…

"Well, I see that your attitude has changed towards me," a familiar voice drawled. I scrambled off the couch quicker than the speed of lightning. He merely chuckled and batted his eyes.

"How long have you been awake?" I said nonchalantly, but inside, I was shaking hysterically. He was not going to die.

"Mmmmm… only about five minutes, at the most. I would have "announced" my waking state earlier but I presumed you were enjoying playing nurse to me and I wasn't about to stop you…" He grinned wickedly, and I struggled to keep myself from slapping him.

"You almost died," I said, trying not to convey any emotion in my voice except for disapproval. "That is hardly a laughing matter."

"I'm supposed to die, Isabelle. The piece of sword that is trapped in my skin is as lethal as poison. And anyways, going back to hell does seem appealing… I might have preferred being beaten by the devil for the rest of eternity." He shrugged and ran a finger through his hair. Clearly, he was not accepting the seriousness of the conversation.

"Don't you EVER say that again," I snarled. "I saved your life over Tynan's. He is dead because you live. I can't believe you would have the heart to say such a thing."

"You're the one who told me I had no heart, Isabelle. Now you are contradicting yourself." He got up swiftly from the couch with no hint of stiffness in his body. The blanket fell to the floor, revealing the bandage wrapped around his chest. His eyes flashed and he glanced down, surprised to see that his wound was well taken care of. He took a step towards me but I growled at him like a cornered dog.

"Don't touch me," I commanded, my voice dripping with spite. "Unfortunately for the entire human population, you're going to live. I removed the piece of sword and applied some salve that Jovan gave me. You will need to change the bandage at least twice a day so that it does not become infected. Do not come to me with questions for I would rather die than answer them." I ran for the exit, not bothering to wait for a reply or to see his expression. I just wanted to be alone in my misery.

"Well, Isabelle, you're attitude has changed indeed. I thought we might have a chance at a successful relationship?" He said, feigning innocence, but I knew in the dark pit of the demon's soul he mocked me. I stopped in the doorway and grabbed hold of the frame to resist the temptation to turn around and throw something at him. My knuckles were gripping so hard they were white. I looked over my shoulder and gave him the iciest glare I could manage without crying.

"I trusted you, Vladislaus. I trusted you. And you have betrayed me in the most horrendous way possible. You've toyed with my emotions and have taken everything from me except my soul. It hurts. But you know nothing of that. How could a vampire care? I was right the first time: you have no heart. But I was foolish enough to believe you when you said you did. Well, it won't be happening again. Good-night."

I then left the room and did not see the count again for two days.

I came upon the hallway by mistake; somehow I had taken a wrong turn along the way to the dining hall. My stomach rumbled insistently but it was a mere pain in my stomach that could be dealt with later. My mind was focused on something much more significant: Tynan's body was missing. The swords were still lying on the floor, and the shattered pieces of glass were still scattered across the ground. But he was missing. I ventured down the hallway to the stables and found the entrance closed. The statue of the horse lay at the base of the doors, broken into so many pieces that repairing it was futile. Where was Jovan? I listened, but heard no sound except the frigid breeze coming from the window. Baffled and curious, I bent down to pick up the white sword and shrieked in pain as it burned into my palm. I dropped it with a clatter and clutched my hand, agony and shock sweeping through me as I massaged the burn. It seemed that I had been so preoccupied with Vladislaus and Tynan that I forgot to take care of my own injuries. And now I was paying for it.

The inscription on the sword caught my attention and I bent down to read it. The name _Gabriel _was written in fine, calligraphic letters that intertwined at all the correct places, making the script look elegant. Was it my father's sword? Or did it belong to the almighty archangel? To check my theory, I looked at the sword the Grim Reaper had been wielding. In the same fine print read the name, _Sammael_. The angel of death.

Starting at the beginning, I came to understand that each knight held in its sheath a sword that bore the inscription of twelve of God's more prominent angels, from Michael to Cassiel. Intrigued by these swords and the power they held, I decided to go to the dining hall and then proceed to the library after my meal.

However, when I passed by the broken window and glanced out, I saw a sight that almost made me question my sanity: there, lying in the freshly fallen snow of the morning was the body of my horse. Around his body were beautiful red flowers that bore a strong semblance to roses. However, the oddest part of it was that standing next to Tynan, amongst the circle of flowers, was a thickly cloaked figure that resembled the outward profile of Dracula. He was muttering something under his breath and from his hands spilled a warm, yellow glow. The count looked paler than usual and his skin was almost translucent, but he stood there in the snow like a dignified and indomitable prince. The wind played with his hair, almost flirting, in a way, before letting it free to frame his white face once again. The yellow glow intensified until it seemed to wrap a protective bubble around both vampire and beast. Not wishing to see more, and angry at the count for confiscating Tynan's body without my permission, I stalked off to the dining hall in a huff.

Author's Note: OK, maybe it wasn't that enlightening, but at least Dracula survived! Stay tuned! :)


	10. Sparing Lives

**Chapter 10 – Sparing Lives **

My plate was laid out for me when I arrived at the dining hall, as always. This night's meal consisted of fish, buttered corn, home-baked rice (my favorite) and a glass of merlot. Letting all of my troubles go temporarily, I dug into the food like a starving and famished child. As usual, the cooking was superb, and I found myself wondering yet again who prepared my food. I doubted the count, since he was an aristocrat; he had probably never been inside a kitchen his entire life. So it must be someone else…

My musing was interrupted when I heard a low, whimpering voice coming from behind what I guessed to be the kitchen door. I set down my napkin and went over, placing my head on the hard wood to hear what the person was saying. It was a male voice, but it was high and boisterous, a voice that I immediately labeled as annoying. Without a moment's hesitation, I swung open the door to find a sniveling, dwarf like creature crying on the dirty kitchen floor. He was rocking back and forth, muttering inaudible words, and in his gnarled little hands was an empty bottle that had once contained something along the lines of wine. Or so I thought.

He didn't even acknowledge my presence, but began to sob even louder. Not knowing what to do, I bent down and patted his arm. He looked up at me with tear-stained eyes; I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"What's your name?" I asked soothingly, trying to offer him some means of comfort. He sniffed and then gripped the bottle so hard it broke, slicing through his skin. He let out a moan and hunched his shoulders.

"Havard," he said, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear. "The master is going to be so upset…" he began to cry again, but I detected something else other than fear in his cries. It was concern.

"Why? Why is your master going to be upset, Havard? What happened?" I observed the surroundings and found that he was sitting in a large pool of blood. My heart hammered in my throat and I struggled to control my rapid breathing.

"Havard was clumsy and spilled the master's last supply. Now he must go get more. But the master is sick and can not go get more. He needs it but it is gone. The master is sick…" the creature's wails reverberated through my skull and I forced myself not to yell at him to be quiet.

"What does Vladislaus need?" I inquired, my brow furrowed in confusion. What Havard was saying did not make sense. It couldn't be…

"Blood," the creature sobbed. "That was the master's last supply of blood. He is too weak to go hunting and no one else can do it for him… The master will die without it. But poor Havard can't go get it, no, Havard does not know how to hunt. So Havard must go tell the master and sacrifice his life for the master. If not, the master will be gone forever…" Havard pounded his deformed hands on the ground, his tears mixing with the blood, making it watery and even stickier. I grimaced in disgust and got up, careful not to slip.

"You don't think…" the creature began, but then his incoherent sobs drowned out the words he was saying. He took a deep breath and glanced up at me with a pleading look.

"Could Miss give some of her blood to the master?" he asked ruefully, like he was ashamed. "It's just Miss is so much bigger and so much taller than Havard. The master would not be able to drain Miss dry. Miss would survive if she only gave him enough blood to get the master back to his old self. It would be so nice of her since Havard has been cooking Miss all those fine meals…"

"So you're the one who has been feeding me," I said, my heart going out for the creature's distress. But what he asked of me I _would not_, _could not_, give. I had made a promise to myself that I would never help Dracula ever again.

"Yes," he blinked. "Havard insisted upon it. Such a pretty girl as Miss could not function without food," he said like it was the most obvious thing it the world. Which it was.

I sighed. "All right, Havard, I'll do it. But make sure that your master understands that I am not doing it for him. I am doing it for your welfare."

Havard beamed and rushed forward, hugging and clinging to me like I was Jesus Christ himself.

"Oh thank you, thank you, Miss! Such a kind girl you are, Miss. Havard will not forget." He smiled, batting away tears with his extra large eyelashes.

"Give me a knife and a new bottle," I commanded and he did what he was told. I took the knife from him hesitantly, afraid of the pain the sharpened object would bring, but I knew that Havard would suffer much more pain if Vladislaus did not have his blood. Now it made sense that the count had looked so pale and feeble…

Without thinking anymore about it, I sliced open the palm of the hand that was not burnt and held it over the bottle. Havard smiled encouragingly, gratitude welling up in his eyes. I let the blood drip until the bottle was about halfway full. Havard then gave me a clean piece of cloth so I could bandage my hand.

"Thank you," I said.

"No, Miss, thank you. I never knew humans could be so kind." He grinned at me and then put a cap on the bottle. "I will deliver this to the master. He will be much pleased." Havard nodded at me, and then left the kitchen. I sighed and followed him out, regretting what I had done to help the count but content with the satisfaction that I had spared an innocent life.

The fire in the library was burning brightly when I entered. I went straight over to the bookcases and browsed amongst the various genres until I found a book called _Holy Immortals_. On the cover was a painting of the chief of the archangels, Michael. Hoping that this would provide some information on the swords that Vladislaus owned, I sat down and flipped through the creamy pages until I saw a heading that read: _The 12 Lost Swords_. I shivered with excitement and was about to read the first word when Vladislaus entered, bringing a cold gust of wind with him. He stopped in front of me, his eyes glowing, but I kept my stare focused on the page number of the book. _24_.

"You gave me blood," was the first thing out of his mouth. His voice was smooth, but I detected that he was just coating it with honey to reassure me. I wasn't going to fall for his traps anymore.

"So?" was my harsh reply. I made up my mind that no matter what, I was not going to look into his eyes. He had hypnotized me so many times that I felt used and cheated. If I didn't look at him, I could keep my sanity.

"I was under the understanding that you hated me," he said, chuckling.

"And I do," I retorted. _According to the Book of Enoch… _

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!" he screamed, his voice shaking the chandelier on the ceiling and rattling the windows. I was able to keep myself from expressing fear on my face, but inside, my heart was thumbing frantically and my skin was prickling. I took a deep breath to answer his demand.

"I will not. Go ahead and kill me, Vladislaus. If I'm dead, you're dead. God knows I want it since I will never see Gabriel or Tynan again." _… 12 of God's most trusted and venerated angels were given swords that were forged in the fires of…_

"It has stopped snowing," he commented, catching me totally off guard. "Gabriel will be coming soon."

"I told you," I sneered, my voice rising, "that Gabriel thinks he has killed you. He will not look here."

The count smiled wickedly. "This is the first place he WILL look. And he will come. I am hosting a ball in the honor of your 17th birthday that is approaching, Isabelle. When he sees your name on the invitation he will have no choice but to come. And then I will kill him." I wanted to throw my book at the snarling bastard, but I regained my self-control and instead expressed my volatile hate for the count with words.

"I'm really surprised the devil hasn't punished you already. From what I know, the Grim Reaper was one of his darkest agents of evil. Why hasn't he come for you yet?" I inquired, my eyes never leaving the page. ..._hell, which made them indestructible. God forged the swords in such a way that no mortal could not wield them, for if in the wrong hands, the swords would become lethal to the entire human race. However…_

"Contrary to your belief, the Grim Reaper did not mean that much to Satan. And the reason he is keeping me here is because he knows I am the only one who can bring down Van Helsing. He hates that man almost as much as I do."

"Gabriel will kill you again," I said, my voice dripping with animosity. "And I will not weep." … _God also made humans the only beings that could withdraw the swords from their sheaths. By speaking the word "to come" in Latin, the sword would be released from its sheath to do the bidding of the beholder. But since that beholder was always a human, its power remained dormant and hidden…_

"Don't be so sure this time. I intend for you to aid me in my plan to murder him. The ball is such a splendid idea, don't you think? You will have to think of a costume…"

"I would rather die than help you," I spat. Was the count really that arrogant to think that I would help him in the killing of my own father?

"Don't be boring. Everyone who says that dies. Besides, Isabelle, I can force you to do anything. Most of the time, however, you are very cooperative." From the tone of his voice I knew he was referring to my first piano lesson. What a fool I had been then…

"I was naïve and thought that you actually cared. Now I am graced with the ability to see right through you. I despise you more than any other creature on this earth." _… and the sword would burn the hand of the human who had unsheathed it. However, many people took the risk of withdrawing the swords, for they were the only weapons that could destroy demons and angels alike. It has been said by many…_

"Then why did you give me your blood?" he inquired, his eyebrows rising incredulously. "I was greatly surprised when Havard told me of your donation."

"I didn't do it for you," I snarled. "I did it to save your servant's life. Poor thing. You scare him to death."

"Fear always used to grant me respect," he said nonchalantly. "But it doesn't seem to work with you. Most of the time, anyway."

"Humph," was my vague reply. _… that the swords came into the possession of a Romanian warlord around the end of the 15th century. However, most people believe that the story of the 12 swords is a myth and that they don't exist. Catholics consider the story blasphemous because of the power that it is contained within them, and the fact that God himself forged the swords in hell. They say that God would never risk creating such dangerous and precarious weapons… _

"By the way, what were you doing with Tynan's body? I can't believe you would have the nerve to take it without asking me." I did not remove my eyes from the book.

"For your information, Isabelle, I was granting him a passage into heaven. Jovan was the one who gave me the idea. Since animals do not have souls, they are damned to wander aimlessly after death. Tynan seemed to deserve better." I could not help it. I glanced up at him and my mouth fell open.

"Why would you care about Tynan?" I asked, not trusting him. "You always talk about how he is just a horse."

"Tynan was the son of Amadeus, who just so happened to belong to your mother." Vladislaus said, scowling at the memory. He looked a lot better than when I had last seen him, but the scowl marred his fair skin.

"I've always known that," I said, feeling bold. "Tell me something I don't know," I challenged, focusing my gaze back on the book.

Vladislaus tore _Holy Immortals_ from my grasp and threw it into the fire, his eyes glittering with anger and fangs bared.

_Oh my God, now I've done it_, I thought as I started to sweat profusely.

"You try my patience, Isabelle, you try my patience. If you had been the daughter of someone else you would be dead by now. I should kill you, for it would make my life so much easier."

"Then why don't you?" I whispered softly, scared to raise my voice above minimum level.

"Because of what you are," he said, as if that explained everything. He bent down and ran a long finger across my neck. I did not comprehend the gesture.

"I do not understand you," I said, basking in the pleasure of his cold skin brushing my own.

_ Give in_, my conscious told me. _Aren't you tired of fighting? Remember how easy it was to give in last time? He won't harm you... _

_NO, _I told myself firmly. _He is going to attempt murder on my father. How would Gabriel feel if he knew his own daughter slept with his archenemy? I could NEVER do that to him. The risks are too great. _

_ You only live once. _

"Maybe you've never attempted to understand me," he said indifferently as he kissed my neck. I shrank away from his grasp, fearing another bite. Or something even worse.

"Mmmmm… no woman has been able to resist me before," he said dramatically. He sounded impressed, which made me question my hearing.

"I'm not a woman," I said defiantly. "I'm only 16."

"Almost 17, which is considered your coming of age. This leads us back to the masquerade ball that I will be hosting. Funny that Gabriel will die on the day you become a lady."

"How did you know of my birth date?" I asked, trying not to think about the death of my father that he was planning, even though I knew there was no way he could succeed. Gabriel WOULD kill him.

"I know more about you than you know about yourself," he said, grazing the two puncture holes on my neck with his fingertips. I shivered under his touch. He smiled. This was the reaction that he wanted.

"You knew my mother, right?" I said randomly. It had been a question at the back of my mind, but now, for some reason, it had resurfaced and I was dying to ask it.

The count's eyes flickered before he replied. "Yes."

"What was she like?" I pressed, seeing how much information I could pry out of him.

"She was… she was a lot like you." He smiled and left my side.

"I am going hunting Isabelle. You wouldn't want to accompany me, would you?" he asked, knowing what my instant reaction would be. I decided to surprise him.

"Sure. Do you need to go get your sword?" I said innocently.

Vladislaus, an accomplished speaker and quick of mind, wasted no time in answering, even though his eyes were wide with disbelief.

"No. I have it here," he said, motioning under his cape. "But I doubt I will need it, for I speculate that tonight's feast is going to be easy prey." I nodded and stood, not fully understanding what I had gotten myself in to.


	11. Of the Seraphim

**Chapter 11 – Of the Seraphim **

"Where are we?" I asked as soon as Vladislaus swooped down from the sky, landing in a small town. It was rather cold outside, but he hadn't been lying when he had said it had stopped snowing. The moon was taking refuge behind some dark clouds, blanketing the street in ominous darkness.

"An insignificant village just outside the borders of Bucharest. Plenty of fresh blood to feed upon here," he said as he scanned the street, like he was looking for someone. A tall man in black was approaching us, and as he drew nearer, I saw that he was a vampire. I could tell by the lack of color in his face.

"Valdemar," the count said, sounding pleased. The man smirked and glanced over at me.

"Who is this pretty little thing with green eyes?" he said, his blond eyebrows rising suggestively. I felt Vladislaus fidget, as he was standing unusually close to me. For once in my life, I didn't mind it. He smelled wonderful and I felt safe in his presence.

"This is Isabelle Van Helsing," he said, slipping his hand protectively into mine. "She… has come to be in my possession for the time being." Vladislaus wasn't stumbling over his words, but I knew he was becoming angry. I studied the man through half-closed eyelids.

Valdemar was about as tall as the count, but for some reason he seemed much shorter. He had long, curly blond hair and electrifying blue eyes. He was dressed in the same style as Vladislaus, but I noticed that he did not have his ears pierced; neither did he have the mesmerizing aura that made me admire the count, even if it was against my will. I took an immediate dislike to this fellow vampire. There was something about him that I didn't trust.

"So you're the daughter of the famed monster killer? How ironic you ended up in Vladislaus's hands," he said mockingly, with emphasis on the word _hands_. I glared at him but didn't reply.

"Let's go hunting," the count said commandingly. "I'm dreadfully thirsty. What have you found for us tonight, Valdemar?"

"You'll see. Is the Lady going to accompany us?" he said, trying to act like he was concerned for my welfare. Both Vladislaus and I saw right through it.

"Yes. She wanted to."

"Very well." We then began the long walk down the street. I dreaded every step of the way, like I was a condemned criminal being led to my execution. I stuck close to Vladislaus and tried not to think about what was going to happen. The reason I had agreed to come was no longer apparent to me.

"Van Helsing… this was lying on your doorstep when I woke up this morning. Thought you'd might like a look at it," Carl said, handing him a thin envelope.

Gabriel sat up and ran a hand through his brownish-grey hair. Taking the envelope from Carl, he eyed it suspiciously.

"Do you have any idea what it is?" he said, sounding skeptical.

Carl shrugged and tugged on his robes. " 'Tis a mystery," he proclaimed, throwing up his hands in defeat. "I have no idea. But from the expression on your face it doesn't look good."

"Nice job Carl, detecting the painfully obvious," Gabriel said, his hands trembling slightly as he grasped the slick envelope. Only one person would send a letter to him just one week before Isabelle's 17th birthday. It was finally beginning…

"Hey Carl," Gabriel said as he started to tear the envelope open. "Remember our little friend the count? You know, Dracula?"

"Oh yes, considering I've never seen him! OK, I have seen him, once, but that was at the masquerade ball, and you had me light him on fire! Unfortunately, I DO remember his brides and offspring. It's been what, 17 or 18 years? My memory isn't that bad, Van."

Gabriel shrugged, obviously disagreeing with him, and removed a thick piece of parchment from the envelope.

"You know," Carl said, taking a seat beside him, "Maybe it is a letter concerning Isabelle's whereabouts. She's been gone for a month, hasn't she?"

"Just about," Gabriel replied grimly. The parchment was blank, which told him the writing was on the other side. But he didn't want to read it. Not just yet.

"You don't think…" Carl said, his face turning the color of ash.

"YES," Gabriel interrupted firmly, his eyes glowing. "I do think."

"Oh no, Van, you should've kept a better eye on her," Carl said, his voice shaking. "You have no idea what he is going to do, do you?"

"Well for one, he wants to kill me. That much is certain. What he wants with Isabelle has a lot to do with why he wants to kill me. He needs her to draw me out of Budapest. But he WANTS her for… well, you know Carl." Gabriel bit his lip and sighed. With a quivering hand, he flipped the parchment over and read it, oblivious to the friar's useless rambling about how vampires, particularly Dracula, always managed to come back from the dead some way or another. When he finished, he flung the paper across the room like it was the plague.

"Oh, come on, now Van. Was that really necessary? How scary can a spare piece of parchment be?" Carl said, bending down to pick it up. He froze when he read the first line that graced the top of the paper:

_You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball that is to be held_

_ On the second Wednesday of this month _

_ In honor of_

_ Miss Isabelle Van Helsing's _

_ 17th birthday_

_ Dinner and refreshments will be offered_

_ Hosted by: Count Vladislaus Dragulia in Castle Dracula_

_ Hope that you will be able to attend _

"Gabriel?" Carl said weakly. When Van Helsing didn't answer him, the friar shook the invitation in front of his face.

"Earth to Van! No use sulking like a beaten child, Van. We must rescue her before…" Carl didn't have the heart to finish his sentence.

"Before what? The blood can only come from a vampire, you know that. I will have to beg the count on bended knee…" Gabriel rambled off, muttering some obscurities. "She probably doesn't even know that he is a vampire. He has more than likely seduced her and is using her for God knows what. Even if we do go to the ball, Carl, I might not be able to warn her in time."

"Well, your attitude has greatly improved," Carl said disapprovingly. "What happened to Gabriel, the all mighty I-know-everything demon slayer? I thought..." Carl stopped talking when Gabriel sent him a murderous look.

"I didn't have two deaths riding on my conscious then," he snapped. "I will never be able to forgive myself."

"Stop worrying about your past. If I worried about mine, well… I would not be the accomplished friar that I am today…" Carl ranted off, looking smug.

"CARL," Gabriel said warningly.

"All right, all right," he said, blinking his eyes. "What do you propose we do?"

Gabriel rubbed his chin. "Go to the ball and I will challenge him to a duel. The one who wins gets Isabelle and the blood of the loser. That way, Isabelle will be safe."

"The kill first, ask questions later approach is quite popular with you, isn't it," Carl said matter-of-factly.

"Why yes, it is, Carl, there you go, stating the painfully obvious AGAIN," Gabriel said. "Just because you're a walking library doesn't mean that you know everything."

"I never said I did," Carl said, looking hurt. "I'm just saying that your approach doesn't always work. If we try something a little bit more practical…"

"Like what?" Gabriel growled.

"Employ some help from… well, you know… one of them?" Carl said practically, motioning to the ceiling with his hand.

""You mean Zadkiel, Annael, Michael, that bunch? You can't be serious, Carl. They have better things to do than get involved in my affairs." Gabriel shook his head, convinced.

"This concerns Dracula, who is of their affairs, Van. And as you know, the only way to kill Dracula is through using the 12 Lost Swords. Obviously neither you or I can wield them, so we must ask one of the archangels," Carl said, like it was the simplest thing on earth. "If I were you, I would ask Raphael. He has such a pleasant sense of humor…"

"Uriel," Gabriel said, his eyes glowing with excitement. He ran a hand along his unshaved chin.

"What? Who? Why?" Carl whimpered. "Van…"

"Why use an archangel when you can have a seraph? Dracula stands little or no chance against one," Gabriel said gleefully.

"Uriel? Uriel? Why Uriel? He is so unpredictable, Van. And even though he is known as the sharpest-eyed of all the angels, he is best associated with prophecies, not warfare. Asking for help from a seraph is a dangerous business…"

"Uriel is not just a prophet, he is the angel of salvation, which would counter Dracula perfectly, since that is exactly what the demon needs. We are going with Uriel, and that is the end of that discussion," Gabriel said, in an I-am-not-joking tone of voice.

"Van, I b-beg you. Please reconsider. I am sure that your old f-friend the archangel Gabriel would be more than willing to help. And he is not as… impulsive w-when it comes to f-fighting." Carl was beginning to stammer, and his face had gone pale.

"Dracula knows I am coming. He is going to transform into what he really is, Carl. And although Gabriel would be a safer and maybe even a wiser decision, I have a hunch that Dracula might be able to kill him, given their past history, which I am not going to retell. If I want any chance of seeing my Isabelle again, I must ask Uriel. He is my only choice," Van said as he put the invitation into his pocket.

"B-but he is of the seraphim, Van. One s-step away from God. By heaven, he is the CHIEF of the seraphim. It is said that they can never be looked upon or else you will be f-frozen with f-fear."

"Not if they stay away from their true form, which I am sure Uriel can manage. I just hope he knows where the 12 Lost Swords are…"

"Of course he does, Van. Don't you ever read? Dracula has them in his castle, although the exact location I am not sure of. They are said to be guarded by some ferocious beast, half animal, and half demon. I shiver to think of what it looks like…" Carl was rubbing his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm himself.

Gabriel smiled. "Wonderful. Now I only have two problems."

Carl sat down and slumped in his chair. "Oh really? The great Van Helsing has problems? What might those be?" He said feebly.

"Where to find Uriel and what to wear to the ball."

We returned to the castle just past midnight, fresh blood still trickling from Vladislaus's lips. As soon as we landed in the library, I moved away from him, towards the stairs. He laughed and licked his lips with his tongue.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked.

I scowled at him, my voice shaking with fury. "I can't believe you would feast on an innocent child. What did she ever do to you?"

"Children's blood is always the freshest and the most delicious," he said. "And Valdemar said I deserved it, considering what I have been through. For once in my life, I agree with him." He rested his left arm on the mantle above the fireplace.

"Well excuse me if I don't join your pity party. I wouldn't go within ten feet of Valdemar anyway. He gives me the chills." I shivered remembering the lust and hunger in the blond vampire's eyes. I would be content never to see him again.

"Well, you are going to be seeing a lot more of him. He is helping with the plans for the ball next Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" I repeated. "That's only eight days away!"

"Which is also your birthday, since it seems that you have forgotten," Vladislaus snickered, his satanic smile making me feel limp like a rag doll.

"Vladislaus, there is something I must tell you."

"Yes?" He asked, feigning boredom as he scrutinized his long nails under the firelight.

"I seriously think my father is going to kill you. For good. I'm not saying this to make you angry, its just I have a hunch. Please, take me and do with me what you will, but as for Gabriel, leave him out of this. I couldn't bear…" _I couldn't bear to see either of you killed_, my heart finished what my mouth and brain could not.

"I've gone too far to listen to the unknowledgeable ramblings of a 16 year-old-girl," he said, sparing me no mercy. "Gabriel has succeeded in murdering me, yes, twice in fact. But this time will be different from all the others." He tapped his fingers on the mantelpiece, counting out the rhythm to one of my favorite pieces of music, _L'amour est un oiseau rebelled _from the French opera **_Carmen_**.

"How? How will it be different?" I said, my rational thinking not believing him. But my heart told me otherwise.

"Because I have you. Gabriel loves you so much he would die for you, Isabelle. You're all that remains of his precious Aurora," the count said bitterly.

"Aurora? Was that my mother's name?"

Vladislaus looked over at me, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Gabriel never even told you your mother's name?" I shook my head slowly.

"Damn him to hell. The coward is too scared to face his past. That name must bring back so many unpleasant memories…" he trailed off, grinning all the while.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. What memories of my mother could be unpleasant for Gabriel? Except for the one when she died, what other bad memories could there be?

"Never mind. You will know soon enough. I suggest that you find a dress for the ball, Isabelle. Havard might be able to assist you in that department. As for me, I am going to go rest for the first time in weeks, for my wound is still healing and I need time to recuperate and reinvest my strength." he proceeded to exit, but I was not ready to let him leave so soon.

"Where is your coffin?" I said curiously.

He turned around and raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Just in case I need anything."

"In your world, where I sleep is on the 1st Floor, in the 'Ice Caverns'. That used to be my entire castle, plus the ballroom on Floor 2, but as you can see, I have built tediously since then to improve Castle Dracula. I would like to say that I have succeeded."

"Is that the same ballroom that you danced in with Anna?" I inquired boldly.

"No. If you read _Dracula's Demise _thoroughly, it tells you of my summer palace that I still have in Budapest. THAT was where I danced with Anna. Good-night, Isabelle."

And then he was gone, leaving me feeling even more confused about him.

Author's Note: The idea for the French opera **_Carmen_** to make an appearance in this fic was rather spontaneous, but it is an extremely beautiful opera.

Once again, thank you to all of my reviewers! You mean the world to me!!


	12. Best Left in the Dark

Author's Note: Thanks to my reviewers and above all The Devil's Juliet for her brilliant advice and ideas. This chapter would not have been possible without her.

WARNING: This chapter and all of the chapters following are rated **R**. If you think this might bother you, please, for both our sakes, discontinue reading.

**Chapter 12 – Best Left in the Dark **

I woke that morning to find Havard's large eyes in my face. He was smiling and in his deformed hands was a white mask, obviously part of my outfit for the masquerade ball. The mask was elegant and reminded me vaguely of swan feathers. I grinned and sat up, pleased with Havard's choice. He had saved me the trouble of finding a costume. One less thing to worry about.

"What is the master wearing to the ball?" I asked as I removed myself from the warm bed and went over to the window, where a small patch of light was streaming in.

"Well, Miss, in a sense it is going to match your outfit. The master insisted on a bird's theme, and after consulting Jovan Havard decided to go ahead and dress Miss up as a swan. If that's okay of course," he added shyly.

"Whatever you think, Havard. I trust your judgment. May I see the dress?" I kept my gaze focused outside, on the ground, where some of the snow was starting to melt.

Havard was delighted with my response and giggled. "Just a moment Miss."

I heard the little creature ruffling around in my closet; his happy hums making me smile. He squealed with glee and placed the dress in my hands like it was the Holy Grail. I had to admit, it was beautiful, and as I ran my hand along the fine workmanship, I began to ponder where Havard had gotten it.

"This hasn't always been in my closet, Havard. Where did you get it?" I asked, admiring the length and volume of the gown. It looked somewhat like a wedding dress, but since there was no veil I dismissed the thought.

"Well, the master bought it. He is going as a raven and wanted Miss's outfit to match his. Havard knows that the master spent a small part of his fortune on this dress. Miss, you should be very grateful. It is clear the master favors you," Havard said, while rearranging the pillows in my sitting area.

"I do not wish to be the object of his desire," I replied, throwing the gown on my bed in disgust. I felt extremely guilty for treating the count in such a horrible manner. But it wasn't like he didn't deserve it…

"Oh Miss, do not say that! If the master could love you he would, I am sure of it. The master thinks about you all the time," the little creature said, his tiny hands moving skillfully across my table, organizing the various books I had strewn about.

"Now does he?" I challenged. "His volatile and uncontrollable temper makes his feelings unknown to me. If he even has feelings."

"Oh yes, Miss, the master has feelings. He has a hard time controlling them, but he does have feelings. You've rekindled his heart, Miss. Soon the master will be stronger than ever before. None will be able to resist him. Not even Miss. Havard knows that the master sleeps now, gaining back his strength and eternal youth. Gabriel will be in for quite a surprise," the creature said, his hands pausing above the book _Dracula's Demise_. He picked it up and eyed it carefully. "When he wakes up, the master's heart will start beating. Then there will be no doubt that he is Count Vladislaus Dragulia, son of the devil. And the master will have his unquenchable revenge on Gabriel." Havard opened the book and ran his hand along the spine, grumbling about the torn out pages.

"My father is going to beat him. Even if the only way to kill Dracula is by using the 12 Lost Swords, my father is going to beat him. He will think of something," I said defiantly.

"Gabriel is blinded by the fact that Miss is his daughter. He will do anything to save Miss's life. ANYTHING." Havard chuckled, and then set down _Dracula's Demise_. "Havard must talk to the master about the book…"

"What do you need to talk to me about, Havard?" inquired a familiar voice from my open doorway. The little creature squeaked and turned to Vladislaus, bowing.

"Master…"

"Leave us," he said commandingly. Havard fled, passing underneath the count's legs.

"May I come in, Isabelle?" he asked in a gentleman-like tone. I made a point of not even looking at his face as I put the dress away, and when I sat down, I looked out the window.

"As you wish." I felt him step across the threshold and into my room, bringing a warm gust of wind with him, which was odd. Curious to see if he looked any different, I glanced over at him and almost passed out in my chair.

He had indeed grown taller. His hair was the same, and the little golden earring still hung in his left ear. I recognized his basic facial structure, but the similarities stopped there. His eyes had lost the hollow-look and in its place was an overwhelming sense of power, along with a bountiful wealth of knowledge. His skin glowed, an obvious sign that he was healthy, and I sensed warmth radiating from his body. He was a force to be reckoned with. And for the first time since my arrival, I started to doubt that my father could kill him. The mere thought seemed so far away now, so distant and hopeless. The count was superior to Gabriel. Nothing could stop him now. Resistance would be futile.

"It appears that a good night's rest is EXACTLY what I needed," he said slowly, pacing my room, casting dark shadows on my wall. "I have regained my strength that I lost so long ago and now nothing, not even the wrath of God can stop me."

"Don't blaspheme. No one is as powerful as God. You overestimate your present state," I said calmly, but inside, I was terrified.

"Stop believing in those who you cannot see," Vladislaus sneered. "I am real. Flesh and blood. And I have a heartbeat." He smiled, a satisfied look on his face. "Thanks to you." He caught me with his gaze and I knew I was gone. The only resistance I could show now would have to be with words.

"You may be able to control my body, count, but you will never be able to control my heart. Hypnotizing me doesn't prove anything, except that in order to get what you want, you must lower yourself to forcing people to do things, instead of them doing it according to their own free will. Any normal vampire can manage that." He was closing in on me, but I was determined to resist him until I couldn't hold out anymore. I would go down fighting…

"Nay, Isabelle, you have done everything here by your own free will. I have never once hypnotized you in this castle. It is your mind denying the inner pleasures that you feel in which you think I am hypnotizing you." He smiled wickedly and walked in a circle around me. I swallowed hard.

"You lie," was all I could manage. Did he really know?

"Do I?" His warm breath tickled the back of my neck.

_Can't do this, _I told myself firmly. _Can't do this. _

_ Yes you can. Let him… you can't deny that he is drop-dead gorgeous. A normal woman would kill to be receiving the affections of such a handsome man. _

_ He is a vampire! He is going to kill my father! He might show mercy for me but think of WHAT HE IS!_

_ Don't let his morals and religious beliefs stop you, _my conscious argued. _And now he has a beating heart… he could learn to love again_. **_And you love him. _**__

_ DO NOT! _I screamed silently, horrified.

_Denial will not get you anywhere. Start listening to your true feelings instead of your brain. You will be surprised where it might take you. _

_ NEVER… I want to but I can't. You don't understand… _

_ Very well. _

"Please," I begged, turning around to face the count. "Why must you kill my father? You can have me but leave him alone! I know he has wronged you and if you don't murder him you will not get your seat next to the devil, but living as a vampire, is it really that bad? Do you truly want to be with the devil for the rest of eternity? It makes much more sense…"

"Talking about that which you don't understand, yet again, my dear. Allow me to make a list: Gabriel has murdered me twice, killed my brides, slaughtered my children, terminated all my dreams… and taken something from me which he cannot return, even through his death." Vladislaus said, his body convulsing with anger. I sat still, feeling utterly helpless and alone, stranded in hell on Earth. "Having you around has… eased that bitter pain to some extent, but it will not stop me. I am not killing Gabriel for the devil. I am killing Gabriel for what he did to Aurora. And what he did to me." The count walked swiftly over to my fireplace and glanced up at the painting. I followed his eyes and suddenly understood what he was trying to convey.

"That is…"

"Your mother, yes. She was my pride and joy, the Helen of Transylvania, but she loathed me more than anyone else. I was unable to come within five feet of her or else she would go insane with rage. I kept her in a secret room, where she could live in peace and where I could admire and desire her from afar. However, when Gabriel sent me back to hell, he found her and was smitten, considering she did look similar to Anna…" Vladislaus grimaced, like an old and painful memory was being resurfaced. "He took Aurora to Budapest and you were born about a year later. But one night Gabriel came home, drunk and in a foul mood. Your mother offended him by commenting on his morals, and before she could do anything he shot her through the heart with the same gun he had used to kill Velkan Valerious. He has not murdered one innocent woman, Isabelle, but two. THAT is why I am back. To avenge myself, Aurora, my brides, and all the other people Van Helsing has wronged, all of the people I adored. I am the person who deals out the punishment he has hidden from for so long. He took something that belonged to me and now he is going to pay."

I sprung from my chair and in one quick movement had the count caught between me and the fireplace. "I don't believe you."

He took my face in his hands and I closed my eyes, savoring his touch. "Would I lie to you?"

I shrugged, keeping my eyes closed, for fear of tears being released if I did otherwise. I knew the count was not lying to me, and I didn't want to cry in front of him. I was too strong for that. Or so I thought.

"Gab… Gabriel wouldn't do that. He…NO!" I cried, pounding on Vladislaus's chest like it was a punching bag. He took my beatings, which would have surprised me, but how the count was feeling was the last thing on my mind.

"He is not a murderer! He loved my mother! He has never stopped mourning her death! What you are saying can not be true!" I screamed in anguish, clawing at his neck with my nails. He didn't even flinch when I drew a large amount of blood.

"You evil, scheming, inconsiderate, lying bastard…" I snarled at him. He grabbed both of my arms and I fought his grasp, but he was too strong. Grief-stricken, I gave up and threw myself at him, only to find that I was wrapped in his embrace. I buried my face in his hair and clung to the loose garment that was clothing him. He smelled wonderful, and just being in his presence calmed me down so that I could think properly. I did not let go.

"My mother…" I whispered sadly. "I wish I could've known her. I feel so betrayed by Gabriel…"

"Plenty of time to know the dead when you're dead," he murmured. "Plenty of time."

He stroked my hair and I sighed, content to just stay that way forever. At that precise moment, he was no longer a monster, or a vampire, or a demon. I was able to see past his repulsive mask and into his very soul. Maybe there was a chance for him. And now that his heart was beating…

"I don't think I will ever understand you," I said, pulling away so I could look into his eyes. They were overflowing with life, but glazed over with anger and something else I did not recognize. "Your motives are so unclear to me."

"Some things are meant to be understood. Others are best left in the dark. I'm the latter." He drew me towards him, so that our bodies were in direct contact with each other. I swallowed hard and struggled to control the burning lust and passion that was stirring within me.

He bent down so that his lips were hovering over mine, just inches away. "You've been such a challenge, Isabelle, such a challenge. I've quite enjoyed it…"

Then he kissed me softly, like he was testing me. When I didn't resist, he pulled me even closer, so I could feel the energy running through him. I smiled and returned the kiss, baffled by the sensations that this alleged demon could create just from his touch. It was amazing and terrifying all at the same time.

Vladislaus moved down to my neck, his mouth caressing the two small puncture wounds that were still healing. I responded instinctively by wrapping my arms around his neck and closing my eyes.

"You are… so full of life. I can feel your heart beating," he said huskily, unlacing my bodice gingerly with his left hand. I dismissed what he was doing and kissed him again, overwhelming desire flowing from my lips. It was in the middle of the kiss that I realized he was gathering the bottom of my nightgown in his right hand, while his left one was buried in my hair. Scared and a tiny bit unsure, I pulled away.

"No, Vladislaus… please. Not now," I implored, my voice rising.

Sighing, he casually relocated his right hand to the small of my back as his fangs scrapped along the tender flesh of my neck. I cringed and recoiled.

"You're still frightened by me, aren't you?" he inquired, straightening up and letting me free from his arms.

"It depends. Most of the time I'm not," I said honestly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. He caught my hand and looked at the palm, where I had been burnt by the sword. The wound was not healing and I had long since become immune to the pain it caused me. Without a single word, he traced a line with his finger across the gash. I watched, amazed, as the skin turned from a patchy red to pink, and then finally to white. He did the same to my other hand, and before I knew it both of my hands were as good as new. I stared at them, astounded.

"You… you can heal?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," he replied simply.

"Why didn't you heal me earlier, then?"

"Pain is essential for human life, my dear. Makes the mind stronger and more willful. The easy way out is not always the best choice." Vladislaus said, as he picked up the book _Dracula's Demise _and tucked it into his waist pocket.

"You've become quite philosophical, count. Have you always been this way, or have I just failed to see it?" I asked, half-serious.

He ignored my question and headed towards the door. "Havard has prepared the most splendid breakfast, and quite frankly, Isabelle, you look famished. After that, I think another piano lesson is in order. Also, Valdemar is coming tonight to assist me with the music choices for the ball, and I trust you will be polite to him."

"Ha. Only if he is polite to me," I answered boldly, my hands on my hips.

Vladislaus muttered something inaudible under his breath and then left. I lifted my hand to my neck to brush my hair away and realized that the two puncture wounds were healed and covered by a thin scar. The only thing I could remember him by. The only thing that proved to me he was actually real and that this was not a dream. But when I went over to my closet to find an outfit to wear down to breakfast, a soft, melodious voice rang in my head: "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."

Author's Note: I LOVE Van Helsing, even more than Dracula, if that's possible. It was not my personal decision to portray him in such an insolent manner, but that is how the plot worked out and changing it would ruin the story. Please, I beg forgiveness from those of you who are Gabriel fans. I adore him and I am going to try and fiddle with the plot.

Helen of Transylvania/Helen of Troy

Helen of Troy (the city) was rumored to be the most beautiful woman in the world, according to Greek and Roman Mythology. She was the daughter of Zeus.

GO ON, REVIEW ALREADY! MWAH HAHA!


	13. Dust Thou Art

Author's Note: Please excuse the lack of updates, I have been grieving and mourning the death of Sir Tristan from the movie _King Arthur_. I will try to update as consistently as possible. Thank you in advance for your support and patience.

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**Chapter 13 – Dust Thou Art **

"I don't understand," I said, throwing my hands up in frustration.

"What don't you understand? You can play the piece perfectly," Vladislaus replied smoothly, his thick eastern European accent making the words flow like honey.

I got up from the piano bench and went out on to the balcony. The afternoon sun was hot in my face, but I welcomed the unwavering warmth. It made me feel content inside, for I was plagued by the fact that my father killed my mother. But I was determined not to think about it. I would confront Gabriel at the ball. Surely he had learned something from his horrible mistake and I still loved him, even if it was against my will. I just felt so betrayed...

"Don't understand what, my dear?" Vladislaus said, appearing right in front of me, cutting off my access to the sun.

"Why can't I play Fϋr Elise the way you can?" I said sheepishly, looking up at him. "You make it sound… so alive. I am starting to believe that piano only works for you."

The count chuckled. "Experience," he said simply. "It is costly wisdom that is bought by experience." He moved towards the balcony rail, granting the sun's warmth back to me. I watched him curiously.

"Angels and demons have a different perspective on life, Isabelle. We are immortal."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I inquired stupidly.

"For once in your life, ignore the Gabriel that is inside of you. Think about what I just said."

I furrowed my brow, trying to comprehend what he was saying. "You're immortal. I'm mortal. Mortals value their time on Earth, but immortals don't, because they will live forever. So…" I paused, and then continued, "…our view on life affects how we play music?" I concluded, praying that my response would satisfy him.

"To an ordinary person, your piano playing would sound above normal standards. If you had never heard me play, you would think the same of yourself. To tell you the truth, I am quite pleased with your progress." He placed his hands on the balcony rail and looked out over the treetops. "However, a mortal will never be able to achieve a state of perfection. I never expect to see a perfect work from imperfect man."

"Don't flatter yourself," I replied, fingering the lacy shirt that I was wearing. I had opted for a change out of the gowns I usually wore and felt free in this loose garment that consisted of a shirt, pants, and lace-up boots.

He ignored my comment and instead straightened up and turned to face me. "How would you like to move on to other things?"

"Such as…" Did he mean what I thought he meant?

"Have you ever heard of the play _Macbeth_?" He asked, folding his hands.

"Of course. I love William Shakespeare," I answered. Taking a dramatic bow, I said, "_Be bloody, bold, and resolute: laugh to scorn the power of man; for none of woman born shall harm Macbeth_."

"So I presume you've read the play?" He said, with a tiny bit of humor in his voice.

"Well, yes. Six times, in fact." Where was he going with this?

"Very scholarly of you. And what languages do you know?" Vladislaus fired at me while he paced. It felt like he was interrogating me.

"Well, Latin, that one is obvious. I know French to some extent and I've always liked Italian." Feeling foolish, I looked down at my feet.

"I see. _La bocca cosí charmful, O dice il mio perché la tua dolcezza me adesca cos_."

My head snapped up and I stared at him in surprise. He knew Italian?

"Well? What did I say?" He said, a knowing smile on his face. It was the first smile I had seen that contained some joy in it.

"Mouth so charmful…" I began, struggling with the translation. "Mouth so charmful, O tell me why thy sweetness lures me so?" I looked at him, genuinely confused. "Is that what you said?"

He didn't answer my question and instead swept by me, his long black cloak billowing behind him like an obedient servant.

"I must leave for a little while, my dear. Valdemar will be arriving tonight around 9, so I trust you will greet him. I plan to be back here at 10 o'clock. Behave yourself." And like the snuffing out of a candle, he was gone.

I sat waiting in the library alone, with a dozen music volumes lying at my feet. Where in the hell was Valdemar? It was 9:25 already! Groaning, I dumped a book about the composer Joplin on the ground. I couldn't find any decent music fitting for a masquerade ball.

Bored, I glanced over at the mantle and saw that Vladislaus had left his sword. Typical man, but definitely not typical vampire. Hopefully he wouldn't need it.

"Havard? Jovan?" I called, desperate for some company. No one answered. I was about to get up and go to the dining hall when a huge grey wolf entered, his mouth bared. I froze, memories of that fateful night coming back to me in full swing. My beloved Tynan…

"Have you met my pet, Fenrir?" Valdemar said, waltzing in like some Roman hero who had just won a battle. "He is quite fond of females…"

The wolf growled and went over to a corner, curling up in a ball before plopping down on the floor like an overworked packhorse.

"Fenrir? Isn't that Norse Mythology? I would believe that topic to be too broad for your mind, if I am not mistaken, Valdemar," I sneered. _Oh please, Vladislaus, hurry back_, I thought.

"Fenrir succeeded in ripping off the hand of Tyr, the legendary son of Odin. I wouldn't want the same to happen to you, my Lady." He moved over to a bookcase and crossed his arms, staring at me with pure venom. But there was something else in that stare…

"It would be a pity. Truly." I picked up the Joplin book and pretended to read it, all the while watching Valdemar out of the corner of my eye.

"Aren't we supposed to be selecting music for the ball? And speaking of we, where is Hades?" He grinned satanically while twirling a blond strand of hair around his finger.

"I'd watch yourself, Valdemar," I warned. "Vladislaus is gone for the evening. He is coming back around 10." As soon as I said it, I would have given anything to take it back, for Valdemar's expression had drastically changed. And not for the good.

"Really?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows. I stopped myself from grabbing Vladislaus's sword and staking him through the heart. Dracula would not be pleased…

"That leaves us to decide then," he said suggestively. I rolled my eyes and glared at him.

"Thank you for pointing that one out. I never would have figured it out on my own."

Valdemar smirked and sat down, across from me. "What have you found so far?"

"Nothing," I said bluntly, tossing the Joplin book aside, yet again. "Nothing fit for a ball, anyway."

"Did he specify what he wanted?"

"He didn't say anything. Just told me to be polite to you," I said. "But then again, I don't always listen to him."

"Why he puts up with you I will never fathom," Valdemar growled as he picked a random book off of the floor. I could tell there was no truth in what he was saying.

"I would say the same to you," I snarled. "But my manners prohibit me from doing so."

He snorted. "What manners?"

I scowled but did not respond. He wasn't worth it. We read in silence for about ten minutes, but when I looked up from my book, I found Valdemar staring at me.

"What?" I said, glowering at him.

Without one single word, he grabbed my neck and pinned me against a wall, his eyes glazed over with lust.

"You are such a jewel, a rare beauty, Aphrodite. It is the beautiful bird that gets caged." He ran his tongue up the side of my face, making me shiver with disgust. It took everything that I had not to scream.

"Just one little kiss…" He leaned in, but I spat on him.

"I would fuck Dracula three times over before even considering touching you," I said viciously, struggling in vain under his strong grip. _Vladislaus, please, come back… _

He smiled at my provocative use of language. "Who can prove you haven't already?"

"ME." Before Valdemar could turn around, Vladislaus had sunk his fangs into the vampire's neck, making him scream in pain. Vladislaus ripped out his mouth, spraying blood everywhere;

his eyes were red. With one arm, he threw Valdemar clear across the room. It was evident that Vladislaus had underestimated his strength, for Valdemar hit the ground so hard I heard several bones crack.

Vladislaus crossed the floor, picked him up, and sent him crashing into the wooden staircase. He swept by me, but I grabbed his arm firmly and jerked him to a standstill.

"Stop this," I pleaded. "You are going to ruin the library. And you are going to kill him."

Vladislaus didn't even look at me. "LET ME GO." He commanded, his eyes glittering with outrage. I tried not to cower under his gaze.

"No. I will not. Truly to moderate your mind and speech when you are angry, or else hold your peace, betokens no ordinary nature," I said, quoting Cicero.

The count wrenched himself from my grasp and went over to the staircase. Valdemar was moaning like a condemned soul in excruciating pain. Fenrir trembled in a corner, whimpering at the sight of his master. I could not do anything. I felt so helpless.

Vladislaus bent down and forced Valdemar into a sitting position by yanking at his hair. The vampire moaned in agony, clawing at nothing. His blond hair was stained red.

"If you EVER lay a hand on her again, you will not survive our next encounter. Do you understand?" Vladislaus whispered softly, his voice boiling over with anger. "There are worse things than death, I can assure you."

The count dropped Valdemar's hair and stood, his shadow shrouding the library in temporary darkness. I thought I heard the distant sound of thunder, but I was not sure. "She belongs to me. I will NEVER let another person have her."

Valdemar stopped moving and his eyes closed. For a second I thought he was dead, but then I remembered that he was a vampire. Chiding myself for such foolishness, I sat down on the couch and stared at absolutely nothing. How was I beginning to miss Gabriel…

Fenrir came out of the corner and approached Vladislaus tentatively, his tail between his legs. The count stroked the wolf's glossy fur and murmured something in his ear that I did not understand. Fenrir barked and went over to Valdemar's dormant body. Taking the bloody fabric in his jaws, he drug the defeated vampire out of the library to God knows where.

"I got tickets to the Italian opera _Aida_," Vladislaus said, like nothing had happened. I forced a small smile as tears formed at the back of my throat.

"That's wonderful," was all I could manage, my gaze never leaving the unlit fireplace. "When is it?"

"Two days from now. It is at a local opera house, right here in Bucharest." He strode over to the fireplace and lit the wood with a short flick of his wrist. It burst into flames, casting even more shadows on the massive walls.

"Thank you," I said, my voice flat and emotionless. "I've heard tickets to that opera are hard to come by."

"I've got connections." He turned around, obviously pleased with himself, but when he saw my facial expression, the count scowled. "What ails you? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"No. I've seen something much more frightening than a ghost," was my harsh and tired reply.

"He would have raped and possibly killed you, Isabelle, if I had not been here in time… and remember, just because my heart beats doesn't mean I've lost my sinister nature." He was serious. No doubting that. And he knew what he was talking about.

"There are worse things in life than being threatened and molested by a sadistic pig such as Valdemar. Much worse." _Such as the father you love and adore being the cause of your mother's death. _I let one tear free from my lashes, but I kept the other ones bottled up for a time when I was not in Vladislaus's presence.

The count licked his fangs and faced the fire. I am glad he did, for two seconds later he unleashed his wrath on the fireplace mantle. His long nails ran along the wood, carving four deep grooves into the soft oak. The sound made me feel lightheaded. Outside, the clouds grew dark.

"NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN," he roared, growing at least a foot taller in his anger. I wrapped my arms around myself and didn't answer.

"I FEED YOU, CLOTHE YOU, HONOR YOU AS MY GUEST AND STUDENT, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME? BY DEFENDING HIM?" Vladislaus snarled. The fire from the fireplace grew brighter and almost seemed to encompass him. He was LIVID.

"I wasn't…"

"SILENCE!" He howled, banging his hands down on a spare desk. It split in two. The rain was beginning to fall harder on the castle rooftop. Several flashes of lightning followed, backed by extremely loud thunder. I snuggled deeper into the couch, contemplating how I was going to survive this.

"HERE," He said, throwing a necklace to me. It was a beautiful chain, and at the end, there was a cross. The charm was made out of white silver, so intricately designed I could decipher every feature of Christ's body. He had emerald eyes. I looked at Vladislaus, speechless.

"Maybe that will keep the damned away from you, Aphrodite," he said mockingly, kicking over a chair in his fury. "Including me." He grabbed the Joplin book off the floor and threw it into the fire, followed by several other literary volumes.

"Oh my God, what are you doing?" I cried, forgetting about the necklace.

"Personally, I'd rather call you Artemis or Athena, it seems more fitting," he continued, ignoring my frenzied protests as he kept on feeding the fire.

I rushed forward to try and save the books, but he was behind me immediately and threw me back. I stumbled and fell over the couch, landing on the floor with a deafening bang.

I was in his arms instantly, being rocked back and forth like I was a small child in a crib. The firelight played with his features, illuminating his dark eyes and making his black hair shine like gossamer. The golden earring twinkled. He waved his hand over my chest, eliminating the excruciating pain in my ribcage.

"Isabelle?" He was looking at me, concern etched in every line of his face.

I took a deep breath and stared him straight in the eyes, straight into his alluring and hypnotic gaze.

"Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."

My eyes then closed and I let the nightmares take me.

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Author's Note: I did the best I could translating from Italian to English, but if there are mistakes, please forgive me! I am far from perfect.

Yes, yes, I agree, Isabelle is a bitch, but what can I say? She likes him, and then she doesn't like him. And SHE complains about his volatile temper? Well, don't worry, my lovely reviewers, for soon, he will eventually win her over smiles It just might take time… LOTS of time, which is something that both Dracula and Isabelle are running out of. But never worry; I know what I am doing. Stay tuned for the next chapter! And don't forget to review! :)


	14. He is the Wolf

READ AUTHOR'S NOTE FIRST

Author's Note: After much debate, I have decided to change my pen name. I am not sure what I am going to change it to yet, but I will keep you updated. Anyway, this chapter is rather short, but I felt I had to post _something_. Chapter 15 will not be coming for a while, I have lost my inspiration for writing due to the death of Sir Tristan (If you have seen the movie _King Arthur_, you know who I am talking about). I know it seems idiotic, foolish, and extremely weird, but I am going through an intense grieving period. I apologize for this. I love you all so much and the reviews and support you have given me are worth more than gold. Thank you!

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**Chapter 14 – He is the Wolf **

****_ "Isabelle!" Gabriel cried, his clear voice ringing in the air. _

_ Isabelle burst out of the house, her long hair tied back in two braids. She was dressed in riding clothes that had once belonged to her mother. _

_ "Yes, Papa?" _

_ Gabriel smiled at his daughter and motioned towards the barn. "You must see what Friar Carl has brought with him from the __Vatican__." _

_ Isabelle nodded excitedly and followed her father to the barn. Once they were inside, he made her close her eyes. "No peeking," he warned. _

_ Gabriel led her to a stall. "You can open your eyes now." _

_ She squealed with delight when she saw the horse that was in front of her. He was young and frisky, a beautiful Andalusian/Arabian cross. And he was the exact color she had dreamed of: a dark dapple grey._

_ "His name is Tynan," Gabriel said proudly, kissing her forehead. "It means 'dark' in Celtic. I am sure with a little training he will bare you well." _

_ "He looks a lot like Amadeus, Papa," Isabelle said, grinning from ear to ear. "I miss that horse." She reached forward to touch the colt's soft muzzle. _

_ "I bet you would be pleased to know that this is the son of Amadeus," Gabriel said with a chuckle. "You know Carl. He takes care of everything. But would you like to see **my** new horse?" _

_ She squealed with delight as Gabriel took her hand, leading her to another stall. _

_ "This is __Ajax__," Gabriel said, stroking the palomino stallion. "He is only four years old but Carl assured me that he is fully trained. He is beautiful, don't you think?" _

_ Isabelle nodded in agreement, looking up at the massive horse. "He is." _

_ "But not as beautiful as you," Gabriel said, lifting her up and twirling her around in the air. "Just like your mother." _

_ Isabelle laughed and hugged Gabriel. "I love you, Papa. And I always will." _

I awoke drenched in sweat and tears. Jovan was standing over me, his warm eyes full of worry. To ease his distress, I smiled and petted his neck.

"Hello, gorgeous. What are you doing here?" I said, realizing that I was in my room.

The stallion shook his mane and pulled down my covers, revealing that I was dressed in a soft satin gown. My hair was done up in a bun.

"Who dressed me?"

Jovan nipped at the dress with his teeth and pulled me into a sitting position. My question seemed unimportant to him, so I did not think about it further.

"What day is this?" I asked groggily.

"Thursday, Miss. And in the middle of the afternoon." Havard came in, carrying a tray steaming with tea and cookies. Chocolate chip cookies.

He set the tray down on my lap and smiled. When I didn't dig in right away, his smile turned to horror and he fell on the ground, sobbing.

"Havard thought Miss might like chocolate chip cookies! Especially after what Miss has been through!" He banged his little fists on the floor, causing quite a racket. Jovan pinned back his ears and stepped away.

"No, Havard, I LOVE chocolate chip cookies. I'm just tired, that's all. Here, see?" I said, taking a bite. They were delicious.

He wiped away his tears and smiled. "Does Miss like them?"

"Very much, Havard. Thank you."

The diminutive creature beamed at me. "Havard is so glad."

Jovan snorted and seemed to roll his eyes. I stifled a chuckle.

"How is Valdemar?" I said, taking another bite from the cookie. Chocolate never tasted so good.

"He is holding up, Miss. Fenrir and Havard were able to restore his blood supply. He is sleeping in a coffin downstairs."

"And the library?"

Havard looked down. "The master destroyed many a book, Miss. Havard was not able to save them. However, Jovan and Havard succeeded in clearing out the broken pieces of furniture and the stairs are as good as new." His tiny ears drooped a little.

"Well, that is bittersweet news." I sipped the tea and felt my problems go away temporarily.

"The master wants Miss to meet him there, today, after Miss is done eating," Havard said. "The master says he wishes to teach Miss something."

_What could I possibly learn from him, besides how to unleash my anger in a unhealthy way_, I thought, but did not say it out loud.

"Very well. Tell your master I will meet him." Havard nodded and left, singing some random children's song. Jovan snorted in disapproval of the small creature and stuck his nose in my face.

"Yes, my love, I know. But at least he has a good heart."

"You wanted to see me?" I said, announcing my presence.

Vladislaus was sitting at a desk, his muscular frame bent over a book, _Aeneid_, by the Latin poet Publius Vergilius Maro. Two strands of long raven hair hung in his eyes.

"Yes. Yes I did." He stood, shutting his book with the finesse of an accomplished reader. Wait… was that even possible?

"I believe that this 'game' we are going to play might be of some benefit to you, Isabelle," he said, grabbing a thick violet scarf from the table next to him.

"Game?"

"Yes, game," he repeated, handing me my necklace. I put it on without saying a word.

"You do know that bats are blind, my dear, don't you?" he said, his tone dangerous. I began to feel uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. He was searching my thoughts again…

"Yes," was my weak reply.

"In such case, they depend on different and much more reliable senses, such as hearing and smell." He walked behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. What I felt just by his touch was enough to shake me senseless. But I kept my sanity.

"So," he whispered, "You are about to experience what it is like to be a bat." He took the scarf and wrapped it around my eyes, tying it secure with a double knot. Wonderful.

"Now, here is the object of the game," he said, but his voice was more distant this time. "You must find me, relying on your other four senses. And don't you DARE remove the blindfold." His voice was sharp, like ice.

_Great. So now what I am supposed to do? Fumble around till I fall on my face like a blubbering idiot? I don't think so! _

Sighing, I took two steps forward. This was impossible! How was I supposed to find him? The library was HUGE. He could be anywhere.

Another two steps, and I felt something with my left foot. The desk. I was in one of the six corners of the library. I placed my hand on the desk and turned around, determined to keep my sense of direction, and trying to ignore my vulnerable state.

Use my other senses. The best bet I could go with was hearing, so I waited in silence and listened. Nothing. He was just like a cat.

"Not so easy, now, is it?" Vladislaus's voice vibrated throughout the library, so I wouldn't be able to guess where he was.

"No," I answered bitterly. "You wouldn't happen to have any suggestions?"

"Without sight, humans are weak. But they fail to realize that sight is the most deceiving and the most fallacious sense that they possess. Don't trust everything your eyes show you, Isabelle."

"That was NOT what I was asking," I said, growing angry. Yes, he was enigmatic, yes, he was gorgeous, and yes, intelligent beyond a shadow of a doubt, but he was starting to annoy me with all his hidden meanings.

"Think, child, think. How do you feel?"

"Isolated. Alone. Deprived."

"Deprived of what?" His voice was now coming from the ceiling, which told me he was taking a stroll _upside down_.

"Of my right to live. I cannot… I cannot go on without my sight," I admitted foolishly, looking up, following the direction of his voice. "I will not survive."

"How do the blind manage to live, then?" He asked, although I knew that _he_ knew the answer.

"I do not know. Perhaps if they are born with it they learn to adapt."

"And if they aren't?" He was coming closer.

"Well, what does it matter to you? We are all food for vampires, despite our physical and mental capabilities," I retorted, feeling both agitated and ashamed that I could not comprehend what he was trying to explain to me.

A short chuckle, a gust of warm air, and the blindfold was off my face. I scrambled away from it and glared up at him from my position on the ground.

"Very good for a stubborn 16-year-old," he proclaimed, still hanging upside down.

"I am glad to have your invaluable approval," was my smart-aleck and rude answer.

"Ah, Fenrir, nice of you to join us," the count said, turning, his strands of black hair shimmering in the extensive light of the chandelier.

My entire body went numb as the wolf entered, his eyes narrowed and hackles raised. Fenrir's threatening gaze was directed straight at me.

"C-count…" I pleaded.

"What? You expect me to save you a fifth time? Can't get out of the predicament by yourself? Better face a danger once than be always in fear." His tone was cold and vindictive.

The wolf growled and started towards me. I knew the look on his face. He was accusing me for what had happened to Valdemar. But it hadn't been my fault! Had it?

"Fenrir, please," I started, not acknowledging how useless it was to bargain with a wolf, "I didn't mean…" The wolf ignored my futile ranting and growled again.

Vladislaus sighed dramatically and dropped from the ceiling, landing on his feet with the grace of an experienced and seasoned warrior.

"Fenrir, come," he called commandingly, pointing in front of him with his hand. The wolf left me at once and raced over, his tail wagging like a puppy. He stopped quickly next to Vladislaus and sat. The count stroked him on the head, murmuring some unknown language that I did not understand. He glanced up at me with a triumphant and amused smile.

"You too, Isabelle."

"I scowled and approached, hating the count and Fenrir more with every passing second. I missed Gabriel dreadfully…

"Here, pet him," Vladislaus said. It was more of a request than a command, so I consented. The wolf's fur was silky and smooth, almost like mink. I smiled, letting my hand run along Fenrir's thick neck and well muscled shoulder. Such power and such beauty contained in such a vicious and wicked animal. And as I looked over at Vladislaus, I realized that in a sense, _he was the wolf_. They were both just simply misunderstood. As you would never scold a wolf for hunting a rabbit, how could you scold a vampire for seeking relief from his never-ending thirst? As immoral as it sounded, it was the inevitable truth.

"I think he likes you," the count said, breaking my reverie. I nodded and continued to caress the luxurious fur. Fenrir turned his head around and licked my hand. What a quick change of heart, even for a wolf.

Author's Note: 

Publius Vergilius Maro – Virgil


	15. Waiting for Something Better

**Chapter 15 – Waiting for Something Better **

That night at dinner I had the _wonderful_ privilege of both Dracula's and Valdemar's presence. They did not eat but were content to sip away at blood; something I found quite repulsive, considering I was trying to digest my food. Valdemar was silent most of the time, leaving Vladislaus and I to do almost all of the talking. We got into a heated debate about the sanity of Edgar Allan Poe, but before we had the chance to rip out each other's throats, Valdemar interrupted.

"I believe we still need to decide on the music choices for the ball," he said, his usual flowing voice frail and timid.

"I have taken care of that," Vladislaus said indifferently, as he traced the outer rim of the wine glass with his finger. "No need to worry."

"Very well," said Valdemar, like he was ignoring the fact that I was in the room. "What have you decided on, my Lord?"

"A few simple pieces, nothing special. But I made sure they will suit the occasion _perfectly_," the count said, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Pardon me for interrupting, _gentlemen_, but the hour is late and I do not wish to stay any longer. So if you'll excuse me, I must be leaving." I stood, careful not to look at either one of them.

"I will accompany you then," the count said, setting down his glass of blood. "Valdemar, if you would be so kind to alert Havard that his service is needed to clean up."

Vlademar nodded and went to the kitchen.

Vladislaus took my arm and we exited the dining hall, passing through the enormous library like it was a brief walk in the park. As we climbed the stairs, I got the feeling that there was something the count wanted to tell me, but that he was holding himself back. When we arrived at my room, rather quicker than usual, he bid me good-night and kissed my forehead. I wasn't going to let him leave that quickly, though.

"Why is it that sometimes it's easy to find my room, and other times, it isn't?" I said, placing my hand on the doorframe so he could not exit without answering. It was a dangerous move, but I was willing to take the risk.

"What will you do for me if I tell you?" he said, his voice rising suggestively.

"Let you go," was my simple answer. I hid a grin.

"This castle has a mind of its own. Everyone is at its mercy, except for me. You never know where the passages might lead," he said with a satanic chuckle. "Now can I go?"

Surprised that he was playing along with me, I nodded and let him by. At the end of the hallway, he stopped and turned around slowly, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Pleasant dreams, Isabelle."

The following day I was resting in my room reading _Beowulf _when Vladislaus walked in, looking extremely smug about something. When he saw me sitting in the corner, my eyes trained on the engrossing words, his expression quickly changed.

"Why are you not ready?" He asked, tearing the book away from me and flinging it on the table. "We leave in two hours."

"For what?" My mind was still in _Beowulf_.

"The opera," he said impatiently. "The Italian opera."

"Oh my God, you're right!" I said, reprimanding myself for my forgetfulness. "What should I wear?"

Without waiting for an answer, I raced to my closet, rummaging through the racks like my life was depending on whether I found an appropriate dress. To my relief, he did not watch my struggle; but instead withdrew a beautiful red gown with black lace trim.

"I think you would look ravishing in this," he said, a trivial amount of humor in his voice. It was a little bit too revealing for my liking, but I didn't have time to argue.

"Fine. Leave so I can get changed," I said, pushing him out the door in the most unladylike fashion.

The dress was very elegant, and rested on my forearms. It cut down low in the front, and the fabric was tight, which made me feel I was shut up in a corset. I hate corsets.

"Dracula, how in heaven's name do you expect me to wear this?" I said, flinging open the door to glare at him. He merely raised his eyebrows.

"You will have to do something with your hair," was his vague reply.

"Considering there are so many mirrors in this castle," I said sarcastically.

Vladislaus sighed and snapped his fingers. My hair was brushed away from my face by some invisible force, coming to rest at the nape of my neck in an elegant bun.

"Very nice," I said absentmindedly. "I didn't know you were in the hair-styling business."

He took my arm rather roughly and led me down the hallway. I could tell he didn't like being late for things, especially operas.

"We are taking horses," he said, as we passed through the music room, out to the balcony. "I hope that it does not cause you any discomfort."

"Can you still remember how to ride?" I said, ignoring his aristocrat comment.

"Yes," he snapped bitterly. "I can."

He snapped his fingers and suddenly we materialized outside. The air was cool, but not unpleasant. Valdemar was standing with three horses; one I recognized as Jovan. The stallion was wearing a sidesaddle, which told me that I would be the one riding him. My heart fluttered and I looked over at Dracula to ask if it was true. He read my thoughts.

"Yes, you get to ride him. He has taken a liking to you, I'm afraid. But we don't have much time." He walked over to a dark chestnut stallion and took the reins from Valdemar's hands. "You will follow behind us," he told the inferior vampire commandingly.

Jovan approached me and bent down so that I could mount him more easily. "You're such a sweet horse," I purred in his ear. I heard Valdemar murmur under his breath, but I ignored him.

Vladislaus swung elegantly on to the chestnut and Valdemar followed, struggling to get his bay mare to stand still. She didn't seem to like him.

I hid a smile and mounted Jovan. "Where to?" I asked, looking over at Vladislaus.

He grinned, his black eyes flashing. "Jovan knows the way."

We started down a long winding trail that led through some dense woods. Jovan was a dream to ride; his stride was long and fluid, and he kept his balance perfectly. It was like gliding on water.

Vladislaus seemed intent on letting Jovan lead, so I did not guide the horse but just sat on him quietly, admiring how beautiful the woods looked. The last bout of snow had melted, however, the trees were still covered with some dew. It gave the forest a glazed appearance.

We rode in silence, although the quietness of the atmosphere was too uncanny for my comfort. I grabbed hold of Jovan's long mane and stared straight ahead, trying in vain to see an opening that would lead us out of the woods.

Jovan sauntered into a canter, and the other two horses followed suit. We were moving quickly, but it didn't seem like we were covering much ground at all. The trees all looked exactly the same; they bore a similar, menacing appearance that did not help my present mood. Vladislaus and Valdemar appeared unconcerned.

Finally we broke out of the forest and into Bucharest. It was a mesmerizing town, and I couldn't help feeling drawn to it. Everyone looked up at us with reverence in their eyes, and as we turned onto a long, narrow street that would lead us to the opera house, a young boy emerged from a baker's shop and stopped dead when he saw Jovan. He broke into a smile and watched the horse with admiration. Jovan held his head high, pricked up his ears, and started to prance, like he was a Lipizzaner stallion from Austria. I grinned back at the boy, but the fragile spell was broken when Vladislaus trotted ahead, his mouth set in a firm line.

The opera house was a rather small building, but as I dismounted, I realized it only looked like that from the back of Jovan. It was a grand structure, carved out of marble, and a dozen steps led to a series of doors that were engraved in the marble. Two regal columns supported the base, and famous Italian composers were inscribed on the sleek surfaces. If that was put there professionally or was done by an amateur I cold not fathom.

"Here," Valdemar said, handing the reins of the horses to a stable boy, who in turn led them to the stables. We made our way up the stairs. Before we passed through the doors, Vladislaus took my arm. Valdemar sulked in behind us.

It was even more breathtaking inside. The walls were freshly painted, and a hint of gloss graced the mahogany surface, which reminded me of candy for some absurd reason. On the ceiling was a painting of the archangel Michael. A blue sword was blazing in front of him, embedded in the thick hide of a serpent. I couldn't help but chuckle and wonder what Vladislaus thought about the painting.

We rushed along, went up another flight of stairs, and then traveled down a long hallhway lined on the left with doors. There was a man standing in front of each door; obviously they were the people who took our tickets. Vladislaus had gotten excellent seats, it seemed.

He stopped at the last door, handed the tickets to a young man dressed in blue, and we entered the small viewing box. It was apparent that the three of us had the box to ourselves. Vladislaus gave me a program and I sat down in between him and Valdemar. The view from the balcony was exceptional and I realized it must have cost Dracula a fortune to get these private seats.

I opened the program to the first page, aware that Vladislaus was watching my every move. To divert his attention, I said, "Do you know any of the people in the opera?"

He nodded, turned a few pages, and pointed at a man with dark hair. "Dorian Irving," he said. "He has the lead role of Radames." He pointed at another picture below Dorian's. "Gerald Grayson. He is the high priest, Ramfis."

"Are they both… well… you know… vampires?" I asked, looking at Dorian's picture. His complexion was fair, but not white. He didn't look like a vampire.

"No. They are not. I only know them because I come to the opera house often, and just by chance I happened to meet Gerald, who in turn, introduced me to Dorian. If you'd like, I can take you backstage after the performance."

"I would love it!" I said enthusiastically. He smiled and patted my arm.

"I thought you would."

We waited in silence for a few minutes, watching the people file in to the orchestra seats below us. Soon, the lights started to dim and the orchestra began to play. I concealed a grin of excitement and shifted in my chair, my eyes glued to the elaborate red curtain that blanketed the vast stage. At any moment it would rise, and the opera would begin.

Author's Note: I've had this chapter written for a very long time, and I think it is fair to post it for you. Chapter 16 has yet to be thought up, so I think you can look for it around the first/second week of August. Thank you to everyone who has taken his/her time out to review. It means so much!


	16. Telling Dorian

**Chapter 16-Telling Dorian **

"So, my dear, did you like _Aida_?" Vladislaus said as he ushered me through a chorus of sopranos. We were backstage, and he was intent on at least finding Gerald. But judging by the amount of people who were milling about behind the curtains, I doubted we would ever even catch a glance of them.

"I loved it. The acting and the singing were excellent. Not to mention the scenery. I really do wish I could meet Gerald or Dorian."

He smiled. "Well, as a favor for me, they are coming to the ball."

"Why do they owe you a favor?" I said excitedly as I thought I caught a glimpse of Dorian, but it came and went so quick I questioned what I had seen.

"I have been generous in terms of money, supporting the opera house and so forth. I also sponsor Gerald, and both of them are quite grateful." His eyes narrowed, like he had spotted someone, and he drug me around a gabble of young women, so that I was thrown right in front of Ramades himself. I struggled like mad to keep my clumsy body from stumbling into him.

"Beg your pardon," Vladislaus said, coming up behind me, "But might I have a word?"

Dorian Irving smiled, his emerald eyes glowing. "I am never too busy to converse with you, Vlad. But please, would you introduce me to this young woman that you seemed so intent on flinging in front of me? I think she deserves a right in this conversation." He spoke half-seriously, so Vladislaus was not angered by his tone. I blushed and tried to maintain eye contact with this charismatic man, but it was hard.

"This is Isabelle Van Helsing," Vladislaus said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "She is my niece."

"Pleasure to meet you," Dorian said politely, kissing my hand.

"Pleasure to meet you as well," I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"What brings you backstage, Miss Van Helsing? This is no place for a real lady."

My face flushed as I tried to stifle a smile. "I love operas, especially when they are sung in the original Italian. It's so much more pure that way, if you get my meaning, Mr. Irving," I said, my eyes locked on his. I was not going to loose this silent battle.

"Please, call me Dorian. It is what all my friends refer to me as," he said cockily.

"You have friends?" It was out before I could stop myself. I heard Vladislaus inhale sharply, but Dorian just smiled in his arrogant way.

"You're a charming one, Miss Van Helsing. Or would you like me to call you Isabelle?" His eyes glittered with humor.

I grinned. "You can call me Isabelle if you so choose."

"Then Isabelle it is. Tell me, what did you think of the opera?"

"I thought it was wonderful. Truly. And you did a fabulous job. I almost believed you were Ramades for a while, with all that makeup on. You played the part extremely well." I couldn't help but flatter him. He was young and in the prime of his life, with a staring role in a worldwide recognized opera. He was probably praised every waking moment, but I believed he deserved it.

"You speak too highly of my meager performance. It was only my second time in that role." He spoke like the compliment meant little to him, but I could tell he was pleased. His face was glowing.

"Regardless, I liked it. Not to mention you have a great voice. That must count for something."

Dorian broke his eye contact with me and turned to Vladislaus, whose expression was growing darker and more malicious by the second. "She is very sweet, your niece. I do pray you keep an eye on her. There is many a man who would be overjoyed to have her by his side."

Vladislaus's face turned sour as milk. I felt an insurmountable amount of pleasure at seeing him in such a detested position.

"I am fully aware of that, Dorian," he replied smoothly, his fake tone hiding bitter displeasure. "She..."

He continued to speak, but I didn't hear anything past "she." My head started to pound furiously and I rubbed my temples, trying not to convey to the two men that I was in pain. I was suddenly aware of how dry my throat was and I glanced around furiously for any sight of water. None.

My vision began to shake and I collapsed on the floor, staring up at two very concerned faces. Vladislaus was bending over me and Dorian was cradling my head in his lap, murmuring an old Celtic song. I focused my train of thought on the words and found that my breathing was slowing down. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of Dorian's consistent heartbeat, which lulled me into a dark and restless sleep.

* * *

_Gabriel Van Helsing rode his exhausted steed hard, passing through bone chilling water like it was a hot spring. Something was dreadfully wrong, and the only thing that mattered now was the safety of his family. He said a silent prayer to God that his troublesome hunch was just him overreacting. _

_The night was still young when he raced up to his house and flung open the door, only to be frozen solid by the sight before his eyes. _

_Aurora's usual beautiful face now belonged to a snarling monster's. His beloved was a vampire. How could he have not known? _

"_NO!" He screamed, reaching for a small gun that he kept hanging over the wall. "What did you do with our daughter?" _

_Aurora cackled and rushed towards him, but then, suddenly, like she was stuck in between two physical identities, she morphed back into a mere young woman. "Oh, Gabriel, I couldn't... I tried not to... please, I never wished to harm anyone, especially Isabelle... I love you both so mu..." her last word was cut short, and she howled awfully before turning back into a vampire. Gabriel spotted Isabelle lying quietly next to her mother. She was still asleep. She was not harmed. _

"_Aurora, listen to me. Whoever is controlling you does not know the real you inside. I love you, Aurora. Please don't do this." _

_The vampire did not listen and flew at him, her fangs extended. Gabriel cocked his gun and fired, driving the silver bullet straight into her heart. She stopped dead in midair and plummeted to the ground, writhing in pain. She transformed back into the beauty she had once been, and then all that remained was ash. _

_Gabriel sunk to his knees and buried his face in his hands. He had killed her. Just as he had killed Anna. He wanted to run away, but the awakening wails of his daughter brought him back to reality. He crossed the floor and cradled the sobbing child in his arms. _

"_Dracula, you will pay..." _

I shot up, drenched in sweat and tears. I was lying on a long velvet couch, and a soft wool blanket was draped over me. My body was trembling violently and I attempted to stop shaking. Dracula had possessed my mother to kill Gabriel, but in the end, the only thing that resulted from his greed was my mother's death. He had lied to me...

With one hand on the arm of the couch, I stood, careful not to trip over the assortment of shoes that were strewn about. It was then I realized I was in Dorian's dressing room. And Dorian was in it too. At once he rushed towards me and grabbed my arm to keep me from falling.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "Would you like something to drink?"

I nodded stiffly and he handed me a cup of water. I thanked him and took a sip. The water soothed the dryness of my throat, but I was still thirsty. I drank the entire cup to rid myself of the feeling.

"Where is Dra- I mean, Vlad?" I inquired, after he had sat me down back on the couch. I rubbed my temples absentmindedly.

"In Bucharest somewhere. I think he went with Valdemar to the local tavern." Dorian's emerald eyes were laced with concern as he watched me massage my head. "Are you sure you're all right? What happened?"

"I don't know." I closed my eyes and sought darkness. But the only thing that met me where the bright torches and lights of the dressing room. I sighed and looked over at Dorian. He was studying me intently.

"Your uncle seemed worried," Dorian said in an attempt to break the awkward silence. "He was quite pale."

_He can't get any paler than he already was before_, I thought, but I did not say anything out loud. Dorian didn't know what Vlad was. Maybe it should stay that way.

"Dorian, can you take me to the stables? I wish to go home." I stood to convey to him that I did not want to waste any time.

"Why don't you just wait for Vlad..."

"No," I interrupted. "I want to leave NOW."

"Very well. Are you strong enough to walk?" He inquired. He was stroking the fine dark hairs of his beard thoughtfully.

Yes."

* * *

I rode Jovan hard towards Budapest. We were taking the main road, so that if my father passed by, I would hopefully see him. How I had gotten out of Bucharest without Dracula's knowledge was a mystery to me, but I felt that God had granted me a miracle. I sent him a silent prayer of thanks. 

The night was old, but Jovan was as fresh as ever. His eyes were bright and with each stride he seemed to grow stronger and stronger. The only sound I heard were his hoof beats, light and melodious on the soft patches of earth and dust.

I wondered what Dracula would do when he found Jovan and me gone. Would he throw a fit and come after me? Or would he wait silently in the castle, testing his luck that I did not meet Gabriel on the open road? The first theory seemed much more likely.

"Run, Jovan, run," I whispered, intertwining my fingers in his luxurious mane. The stallion snorted and lengthened his gallop. The moon hung over us, following us in our exodus, riding on our tail. Jovan acknowledged her challenge with a toss of his forelock and then we were off, racing the moon and her soft light that could grace even the darkest corners of the world.

We passed by flower mills, small cottages, sometimes the occasional graveyard. But Jovan never once faltered; his strength was interminable, and I clung to his mane, tired, thirsty, and heartbroken. Dust from the ground stuck to my sweaty face. Jovan's eyes peered out into the darkness, and I got the feeling that he could see very well in the dark, better than a cat, even.

Unaware of my rambling thoughts, my mind eventually drifted to Vladislaus. Thinking about him was painful, for all he had ever brought me was pain. Yes, there had been a couple seconds of pleasure, but he always ended up hurting me in the end, mentally and/or physically. I wanted to find my father, to tell him I was all right. To tell him I was sorry. Sorry about everything.

On the horizon, the moon began to make her descent, giving way to the much brighter sun. But Jovan was still racing her, and he continued to race her until the last of her light disappeared and was replaced by a strong ray of sunlight. Solstar was rising.

He broke to a trot and shook his head, raising his front knees to his chin. I smiled at his childlike antics and stroked his neck. He wasn't even sweating. But I knew he must thirst for water, and several minutes later, I spotted a well twenty yards from the main road. We broke for it.

The water was cold, and had a hint of bitterness, but it cleared my mind so I could think properly. Jovan did not drink from the well. I tried to coax him to, but he only moved his muzzle and was content to watch me. Not understanding, I remounted and we were on our way again.

That's when I realized we were being followed by a person on horseback. At first I suspected Vladislaus, but then Jovan would have sensed his master's presence and insisted on returning to him. Also, Dracula would not ride a horse when he could fly. So who was it?

I nudged Jovan in the ribs and he quickened his pace to a slow moving canter. He loped leisurely, with no concern for our stalker. This calmed me a tiny bit, but I kept looking back every so often. Whoever it was, he was gaining steadily.

It was way into the middle of the afternoon when I finally could make out the features of our follower. It was Dorian, sitting astride a dark brown horse. He was waving frantically, and I caught some broken bits of what he was saying. He wanted us to stop. I knew that was unwise, for Dracula was probably pursuing me, but he looked so desperate I reined Jovan into my hand and the majestic black stallion halted with a snort.

"What do you want?" I cried, turning around in the sidesaddle.

"To ask you where you are going. When you took this road instead of going back to the castle where your uncle lives, I knew something was wrong," he yelled back. He had moved his horse into a gallop and he was approaching at an extremely fast speed.

"Why are you spying on me?" I asked as he drew closer.

He brought his horse to a halt beside Jovan and wiped his brow. "I am concerned for you. You still don't look that well. I don't want you falling off or becoming sick."

Jovan whinnied and pawed the ground. He was upset that Dorian believed I could fall off of him. To calm the stallion down, I said, "Jovan is a trustworthy steed, Dorian. He would never dismount me."

"Regardless I had to check. You look more than ill, Isabelle. There is something bothering you. Will you please tell me?" His eyes were earnest and his voice was pleading. "I want to help."

_You can't help me. No one can help me. _Still, it would feel nice to let someone else in on my dilemma, someone I could confide in. But I couldn't let him try to assist me. I wouldn't risk putting an innocent and unsuspecting life in danger.

I sighed and loosened my hold on the reins. "Will you promise not to tell a single soul?" My eyes watered, but I was careful to blink the tears away unobtrusively. I missed my father...

He nodded. "I promise. Please, I just want to know what you are running away from."

My breath caught. If I told this young singer, what would happen? Maybe it was better that he didn't know. But as I sat there pondering, a soft, gentle wind seemed to buffet me, coaxing me to tell him. He caught my gaze and I knew there was no turning back.

I took a deep breath, stared him straight in the eyes, and told him _everything. _

Author's Note: Perhaps not the wisest move, but Dorian is a good guy at heart. I am leaving for Michigan on Saturday, August 7th, and I am coming back in a week, so this is the only chapter for a while. Enjoy. And don't forget to review! :)


	17. The Keeper of the Swords

**Chapter 17 – The Keeper of the Swords **

"Dorian, I don't understand. Dracula should be pursuing me by now. He has let me out of his sight before, but never for this long. I think something terrible is happening." I stroked Jovan's neck and scanned the road in front of me. No sign of anyone, man or beast.

"You're concerned for him," Dorian said matter-of-factly, his face grim in realization.

"How can you say that? He has murdered my mother!" I cried, glaring at him.

"Aye, perhaps, but I can see it in your eyes. You worry for him."

I shot a venomous look at the cocky opera singer and clucked to Jovan.

"I should be worrying for my father. When he goes to Castle Dracula, Vladislaus is going to defeat him. I just know it. And then where will I be?" I bit my lip.

"I doubt that. If you meet your father here, on this road, maybe you can just go home. You're bound to pass him." Dorian ran a hand through his curly black hair.

"Never. Gabriel would want to go to the masquerade ball regardless. He wants to vanquish Dracula for good. The whole 'revenge' thing, I suppose. For once, I agree with him. But I do not want my father murdered by that heartless demon. He _must_ have a plan."

"You seriously believe that demons don't have hearts, Isabelle? The story you told me proved otherwise." Dorian looked at me seriously.

"I thought he did. But his heart is only made of lead, not living flesh." I scowled at the thought.

"But the demon does have a heart," Dorian insisted, the corners of his mouth twitching in a semblance of a smile.

"Do you mock me?" I asked.

"No, it's just I've never really believed in vampires, if you know what I mean. It's hard to… comprehend." He shrugged his shoulders and tightened up his grip on the reins.

"So what you are saying is that you don't believe me," I said, hurt. "I should have known."

"That is NOT what I'm saying. It's just… it was only a dream. Who knows if it was true?" Dorian said, licking his lips. His eyes glittered in the fading light.

"It's hard to explain, but I can just… feel it. Like the dream was sent to me, as a messenger, perhaps, begging me to escape. And the fact that I was able to sneak out of Bucharest unhindered is a miracle itself. Someone is watching over me." I looked up at the sky. It was streaked with red and orange, signaling the impending descent of the sun. Soon it would be night.

Dorian seemed almost desperate to change the subject. "Where shall we stay the night?" He asked, following the direction of my eyes. "It is getting dark."

"I don't know, Dorian, I don't know," I said, irritated. I was growing thirsty again. "We have no provisions, nor do I think we will find a place to stop and rest. I think if we just keep going we might actually meet someone."

"I don't know about Jovan, but my horse is tired and deserves rest. There has to be some form of shelter along this road." He narrowed his eyes and glanced around. "We'll find something soon enough."

We rode at a walk, traveling the perpetual road. Soon the moon rose, shrouding us in darkness, but Jovan did not accept her challenge again. He seemed intent on finding a place for us to sleep.

It was Dorian who spotted an old abandoned church two hours later. The building was being held together by green vines, and it looked like it might collapse at any moment. Still, it would provide safety from thieves, if there were even any out on this night.

We tore through the underbrush, snapping twigs and dead leaves like they were nothing. All four of us were tired, even Jovan, and the sooner we reached the church, the better.

When we came to the front door, Jovan laid his ears back and stopped dead. The whites of his eyes were showing, and the irises had turned from brown to blood red. He began to back up, but I dismounted and gave him a warning look. He lowered his head, defeated, and nudged my shoulder. I patted his muzzle and we went inside, followed by Dorian and his mount.

The church was a mess. There was a carpeted aisle, which was shredded apart, and on either side were six rows of pews, shattered into bits. Wood and glass was strewn all over the floor. The altar was broken at the middle, and a garden of lilies had started to grow, overcoming the mound, nearly covering it. At each of the four corners of the rectangular altar were statues of angels holding swords that were pointed towards the heavens. The statues remained unsullied, like they had just been placed in the church yesterday. The statues were of the four greatest advocates of the Lord God: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel. Each statue was distinguished clearly from the others in terms of the angel's physical features and the type of a sword he was wielding.

I headed towards the altar, intent on taking Jovan with me, but he reared and broke from my grasp. I ignored his frenzied protests and let him go. Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the altar, my stare trained on my favorite archangel: Raphael.

Although the statues were made out of marble, each of the Heavenly Hosts had a color for eyes. The eyes were fashioned out of something that resembled crystal, but this substance had a much more hypnotic effect. I found that I was struck dumb by the beauty of their eyes.

Raphael's eyes were green, like the forest. They had joy and laughter in them, but they also appeared to be asking me a question: What do you seek?

Michael, of course, had blue eyes. They were deep and accusing and strong, like the ocean. His eyes were asking me the same question.

Gabriel had white eyes, pure, chaste, and kind. The question was the same for him, but he looked down on me with a sense of understanding, pity, even. I could sense it.

Uriel was the most intriguing. His eyes were of the darkest shade of violet, sharp and wise. They almost looked alive…

"Isabelle, I know how much you like cold white statues but can we please go to sleep? My horse has already stolen the most comfortable spot in this wreckage." Dorian took my arm firmly. "You can stare at them tomorrow."

I reluctantly followed him down from the altar to a little corner of the church, where he had set up a tiny sleeping area. Jovan was dozing uneasily, with one eye open. I stole one more glance and the statues and then settled down, laying my head against Jovan's stomach. I had no intent of letting down my guard tonight.

* * *

I awoke to darkness. The first thing I realized was that Jovan was gone. It was cold in the church, and without the stallion's body heat, I began to shiver. I was too afraid to call out to the horse so I sat silently, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

After several minutes, I could make out the figure of Dorian sleeping just a few feet away. He was curled up in a ball, and his arms were lined with goose-bumps. His horse was gone too.

"Jovan?" I whispered. My voice echoed throughout the entire church, startling Dorian. He sat up and I put a finger to my mouth, warning him to be quiet. He crawled over to me and sat down.

"Why is it so cold?" he asked, scanning the church. I could not yet see the altar, but my eyes were adjusting quickly and soon some reassurance would be offered to me.

"I don't know. Jovan and Vito are missing. I don't know what time it is." I stood, using Dorian's shoulder as my base of support. My throat was aching and I felt lightheaded.

"JOVAN," I said, my voice a little louder this time. "Where are you?"

"Jovan is not of this world," a soft bell-like voice said. I spun around, trying to find its source, but there was no one. Dorian was looking at my strangely.

"He does not belong here," a second, stronger voice said. "He belongs to Diomed."

"Perhaps," said the first voice. "But he thinks he belongs to himself."

"He is the Keeper of the Swords," said a third voice. It was wise and commanding. "He belongs to what he keeps."

"Aye, ye speak the truth," said the second voice. The voices were growing louder, and it was growing lighter in the church. I could almost see the altar. "But the true question is this: shall he keep the swords much longer?"

"He is of the Thracian horses," said a fourth voice. The voice was gentle, and had a joyful tone in it. "What does The Majestic deserve?"

A short ray of light fell upon the altar. The voices suddenly disappeared. Crouching beside the altar was a dark and muscular figure. At first I thought it was dead, but then it began to move, inching out from behind the statue of Uriel, into my line of sight. And when it came into view, I felt like my entire world had shattered into oblivion.

Tall and darker than night, Jovan glided forward, wings of shadow outstretched. Red as blood were his eyes, and as he beat his wings, he created a haze of black wind around his body, which buffeted him, like a protective shield. His four canines had grown points, and protruded from his upper and lower lips, sharp as kitchen knives. Hooves of silver he had, that merged seamlessly with the floor, and shined like the moon. On his chin was the beard of the lion, and his tail was of the peacock. This was the Keeper of the Swords.

I fell to my knees, not knowing what else to do. Perhaps he would spare me. I felt Dorian sinking to the floor behind me, so I was sure he was kneeling also. We were at the mercy of a demon.

"What do you seek?" he inquired as he made his way down from the altar. His voice came not from his mouth, but from the center of his body. It was deep and melodious, something I did not expect.

"Jovan," I said meekly, trembling at the sight of what the stallion had been all this time. "How can you do this?"

The Keeper of the Swords snorted and pawed the ground with one slender leg. "Do what, half-blood? I am of the Glaukos, anthropophagous, the Thracian horses. Born and bred to devour human flesh. Trained to be unmerciful. Revered as the servant and mount of the son of the devil. I have slain many. Why should you be different?" He was approaching steadily, his blood red eyes boring into mine. I did not flinch.

"I love you, Jovan. I truly do. I think you different from what had been trademarked evil. Are you so eager to prove me wrong?" My heart was beating rapidly.

"I, along with my brothers, feasted on the flesh of our own master, Diomed, the tyrant of Thrace. He had no hold on us. Do you believe you have a hold on me?" The Keeper of the Swords was walking more slowly, but his stance was growing taller. My neck hurt from looking up at him.

"I…"

"I asked you a question before," he interrupted sharply. "What do you seek? Answer correctly and I may spare you." He stopped in front of me, his wings beating the cold air, fanning me in the face. I fought my body's reaction to shiver.

"I seek salvation," I said boldly, staring him straight in the eyes. I heard Dorian fidget behind me.

"For whom?" He asked nonchalantly. I could not fathom if my answer was the correct one. His expression was hidden behind bloodthirsty eyes.

I smiled in my mind. "For you."

He screamed in rage and reared, pawing the air. I ducked out from beneath his lashing hooves and threw myself behind a pew. He grabbed the back of my shirt with his teeth and lifted me off the ground with unbelievable strength. I fought his clasp but he shook me hard, shaking me senseless. I found myself lying on my back with him standing over me, his fangs just inches from my face.

"You believe I need salvation? From _YOUR_ God?" He challenged, his eyes daring me to answer otherwise.

"I do," I replied.

"Where has God's salvation led you? What has he done to save you?"

"He sacrificed his son to grant me eternal life in heaven." I kept my stare focused on his cold red eyes.

"You cannot be saved. You're a half-blood. Half-evils are not allowed in heaven. They aren't even permitted in hell. You belong to nothing." He grinned and tossed his forelock, shading his eyes from view.

"Then I shall die. I shall refuse to drink of vampire blood, refuse to be either human or vampire," I said, remembering from reading so long ago that was the only way I would survive past my 17th birthday was to drink of vampire blood.

"And defy me?" He lowered his face so that his fangs grazed the sides of my cheeks. I couldn't help it; I flinched.

"And defy you." I said, praying for someone to stop this pain that was inside of me. I had loved a demon, thinking that Jovan was just like Tynan. It seemed that I was destined to love those who could not be saved from the clutches of hell.

"You realize that if you do not drink of vampire blood you will wander throughout this land without a home and without a name? You will be a phantom, someone humans can see but never touch. Belonging neither to the world of the dead or the world of the living."

"I have suffered worse," I said, aware that my breathing was gradually slowing down. I was no longer afraid.

"Such as?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Betrayal, jealousy, lies, hatred. Love."

"What is this 'love' you speak of? I do not know it." He moved so that I could sit up. I then realized he was going to spare my life. Relief washed over me.

"It is something stronger than the fires of hell. Something that you cannot even begin to understand," I said. "Describing it in mere words cannot do it justice." I stole a quick glance around me. Dorian wasn't in the church. I figured he had fled or gone to get help.

"So you loved my master?" he asked bluntly. It was more of a statement than a question.

"I respected him. For a time." I couldn't say I loved the murderer of my mother. The vampire who was responsible for what Jovan really was. The vampire who ruined my father's life. The vampire who broke my heart. He had wounded me thousands of times over. But for some reason, I still cared for him. It was against my better judgment.

This seemed to silence the Keeper of the Swords. He was watching me attentively with a bemused expression. I stood up and brushed some dirt of my dress. It was ripped and shredded, and I felt bad for ruining such a pretty gown. But I wasn't entirely at fault.

"My master gave me the responsibility of returning you safely to his castle. That is why I am sparing you, half-blood. Not because I am merciful. Because I have orders." He glowered fiercely at me. "Let's depart."

I stared at him. "Will you not resume your other form? You may frighten several people. Not to mention get shot at."

"I am quicker on air than earth. That was how Vladislaus and I preferred attacking our various opponents those long years ago. From the sky." He bent down on his knees so I could mount him more easily, just like how he had before the opera. I realized that lying beneath his menacing appearance and curt temper was the Jovan I knew. And I was filled with a sudden rush of hope that maybe the salvation I had asked for was being granted.

Author's Note: Well, well, back to Castle Dracula. Mind you, it's Sunday now. Only four more days till the masquerade ball, the ultimate climax. We shall see what happens.


	18. Of the Last Three Pages

Author's Note: Thank you once again to all of my fabulous reviewers who have encouraged and supported me beyond belief. Your guidance, suggestions, and criticism mean everything to me. Merci beaucoup!

If anyone knows where I can find quality Snape/Hermione or Sirius/Hermione stories, please let me know. I have been searching for the past three months and I have only stumbled upon one. I'd really appreciate it! :)

NOTE: I have changed my name from Tristram's Iseult to Healer of the Sword because Tristram's Iseult was kind of a temporary name for me while I contemplated what my new pen name would be. I apologize for any inconvenience.

**Chapter 18 – Of the Last Three Pages**

"So you came back."

I was greeted by the count in the library, where Jovan had dropped me off and now stood behind me, his warm breath on my neck. Vladislaus was staring into the fire, his eyes glittering maliciously.

"No," I said, no longer afraid. "I was brought back against my will, by YOUR orders." I put my hands on my hips.

"I see you are still wearing the necklace I gave you," he said. "Did it prove useful?"

I raised my hand to my throat. I had forgotten all about the necklace, even though it had been with me all that time.

"I guess so. Although, in the end, it still could not keep me free from this demon's unmerciful clutches." I heard Jovan snort angrily behind me.

"Jovan was and still is a very effective warhorse," Vladislaus said, turning. "He is frightened by no one, not even your pathetic excuse for a god."

I narrowed my eyes. "You know not of whom you speak," I said angrily.

"Do I? Have you seen this god of yours?"

I chose not to answer him. I had been so close to escape and now I was back to where I started. My only hopes of keeping my father from an unnecessary death were now terminated forever.

"You are deeply troubled, Isabelle. Is it something I've done?" Vladislaus asked mockingly. He smiled, his long fangs glittering softly in the light from the fire.

"You killed my mother," I growled softly. "That is something I can never forgive you for; no matter how hard you try to redeem yourself."

"Oh, it was never my _true_ intention to kill her," he said. "I made her into a vampire before I took her prisoner, but she always fought the transformation. I think she figured if she married Van Helsing she could try to pursue a normal life, but I never let something I cherish out of my sight, no matter what."

"You've lied to me all of this time," I said, ignoring the tears in my eyes. "You've lied to me about everything: Gabriel, my mother, Jovan. I cannot trust you."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Isabelle. It seems to me you can't make up your mind whether you will trust me or not. Is that your final conclusion?" He crossed his arms.

"Yes," I said, staring defiantly at him. "I know who you truly are now. A liar and a heartless demon. You will NEVER be able to change my perspective, no matter how hard you try. I've lost all of my respect for you."

Vladislaus did not say anything at first. He glanced over my shoulder, obviously at Jovan, and then looked down at me. His eyes were twinkling.

"Well, Isabelle..."

"You have not explained to me why you killed my mother," I interrupted. "If you refuse to tell me, I will leave."

"Stay," he warned, raising a hand. "Or you will loose something very precious to you."

I sat down, ignoring the fact that Jovan refused to let me wander too far away from him. He stood behind me like a protective father watching his daughter play in the ocean.

Vladislaus stared a long time at me before speaking. The silence hung heavy on my mind, and I tried to think of my father coming in and rescuing me from him. But Gabriel really didn't stand a chance...

"The reason I possessed your mother and forced her to change, which resulted in her death, is because if I couldn't have her, no one would." He turned back to the fire. "I knew Van Helsing would kill her in an effort to protect you."

I stared at him openmouthed. "So that is your reasoning? How selfish can you get? You let my poor unsuspecting father take the blame for her murder so you wouldn't have to? Why?" Jovan nuzzled my shoulder, but I slapped him hard across the nose. He shrank back and snorted.

"Because I loved your mother." He sighed and continued to stare into the fire.

"Love? How _dare_ you speak of love. You know nothing of it!" I cried as I stood, my legs wobbling slightly. I pointed a finger accusingly at him. "Everything that you are consists of lies! Lies and deceit! You are lower than the dirt I walk upon! I don't know who is worse: the vampire who cheated me to get me on his side, or..." I faced Jovan, "the demon who acted like dear Tynan to win my trust!" I faced Dracula again. "You're both the same. You lack compassion and empathy. You both have a heart of lead. I cannot believe my own foolishness!"

I stole a quick glance at Jovan. He had transformed back into a black horse, his red eye color changing to a warm forest brown. Dracula had not moved.

"WHAT SAY YOU TO THAT?" I challenged, turning to Vladislaus. "Do you have some explanation for your actions?"

"You trusted a vampire," he said slyly, fangs curling. "Lack of better judgment. But what say you to this: I spared your life when I could have made Aurora easily slaughter you, which would have destroyed your father entirely. But I didn't. I must have some sympathy, no?"

I glared at him fiercely through half-closed eyelids. "You spared me then because you need me now to lure Gabriel to Castle Dracula," I said smoothly. "That is why you have saved my life so many times. Because you need me to kill my father."

"Very good, Isabelle. I am impressed," he said slowly, like he was weighing every word. "I don't suppose you have ever read the last pages of _Dracula's Demise_, now have you?"

He withdrew a withered piece of parchment from within his garment and handed it to me. It was the last three pages of _Dracula's Demise_, the ones that had been torn out by Vladislaus himself, no doubt.

"I removed them because I felt you were not ready to read the secrets they conceal," he said flatly. "They speak of a prophecy and the final damnation of Van Helsing. You see, Isabelle, with Jovan on my side, I am unstoppable. Not even the wrath of God himself can stop me now."

Desperate, I turned to Jovan to see if what Dracula was saying was true. He refused to meet my eye contact and took a step backward. My face flushed with humiliation of his final betrayal.

"Very well," I said nonchalantly. I was determined not to let any emotion into my voice. "We shall see who wins, no?"

* * *

Dorian stumbled down the deserted road, coated in dust. He was running like a blind man, wild and frazzled, but all he knew was that he had to find Gabriel before it was too late. The sun shone hard on his back, but he ignored the pain. All that mattered was that he reached Gabriel Van Helsing before something terrible happened to his daughter. 

All of his life Dorian never believed in the supernatural. They were stories, myths designed to frighten little children and make them behave. He had never believed the tales of the damned to be _real_. But after seeing Jovan, Dorian knew that Isabelle had not been lying.

He bent down to wipe some dirt off his pants, and when he looked up, he spotted two riders on horseback. One was mounted on a grand palomino horse and rode tall in the saddle. The other was on a smaller horse and was hunched over, like he was hiding his face from view.

Dorian raced forward, waving his hands frantically. As the riders drew nearer, he saw that the man on the proud yellow stallion bore a familiar resemblance to Isabelle. Convinced that this was her father, relief washed over him, and he collapsed on the road.

* * *

I closed the book _Le Morte d'Arthur_ and looked out my window. It was a beautiful Monday morning, fresh and with a sure sign of spring approaching. I had already tried on my gown for the ball and Havard had made the necessary adjustments. Valdemar had been in and out, discussing the food preparation and various other things of insignificance. I was careful to stay out of both his and Vladislaus's way. 

Sighing, I took out the torn pages of _Dracula's Demise_ for the umpteenth time. What it spoke of lay heavy on my heart. My father was destined to fail against Vladislaus. I had always suspected this, known it, even, but the fact that it was now in writing, so clear and out in the open was a major blow to my confidence in my father and my confidence in God himself.

It went like this: Dracula would refuse to give me his blood, knowing that Gabriel would do anything for me. Vladislaus wanted a trade: my life for his. He would give me blood with the knowledge that once I had chosen my direction, he could take Gabriel's life, right before my very eyes. Then the Lord of the Vampires would receive his much coveted seat next to the devil.

What was Jovan's role in all of this? Protect the swords from any celestial interference.

There was no way to escape it. It was a fool proof plan, for no one had ever gotten past Jovan and survived, according to the last few pages. My father would certainly make the trade, even against my better wishes. We were all doomed to failure.

"Miss?" I raised my head and came face to face with Havard. His tiny ears were drooping and he looked exhausted.

"HE wishes to speak with Miss," Havard said quietly, his frail voice trembling. "He wishes to tell you something of great importance."

I groaned. "I wish not to speak with any more traitors at this moment, especially not Jovan. Tell him to leave me in peace."

Havard bowed and patted my hand, and then left my side. He made to exit, but really he just stood in the doorframe, his minuscule body shaking. I watched him as he turned around slowly, his stare rested on the ground. He refused to meet my eyes.

"He also wishes to add his most sincere apologies," he said shortly, his gaze trained on his feet. "He never meant for it to end this way." And with that, the tiny creature left, his footfalls making hardly a sound.

Author's Note: With school, I am going to find it more difficult to write chapters as consistently and update them as quickly as I did over the summer. Please be patient with me and I promise I will try my hardest to update in a timely fashion! Cheers!


	19. Lily of Hope

**Chapter 19 – Lily of Hope**

I was determined to keep myself from any living being in Castle Dracula, with the exception of Havard. He brought me my meals and updated me briefly on what was going on in Vladislaus's expansive estate. Several times I heard Jovan in the hallway, his heavy breathing giving away his secretive position. Dracula came once and knocked on my door. I ignored them both.

Much to my disgust, I experienced two more passing-out spells. I figured they were attributed to the lack of vampire blood in my system. My body was telling me that blood was my only chance for survival. I ignored its pleas and protests and confined myself to drinking water. This helped for a short while, but I could never fully escape from the excruciating thirst. I kept my mind busy with the small library that was supplied in my room.

Keeping to my room had its privileges. First off, I was able to battle my conscience without Vladislaus's overwhelming presence. I contemplated what I would do after Dracula defeated my father. Suicide seemed like the most enticing option, but I wasn't going to let my father's death be in vain. Perhaps I would take it upon myself to kill Dracula. But by that time he would be one step away from the devil, which made him invincible. Not even the 12 Lost Swords could stop him then.

These thoughts depressed me. I tried not to think about them and instead wondered if Tynan was enjoying heaven. Why Dracula had even bothered granting him passage to the eternal resting place was beyond me. If you even mentioned anything to do with God around him he would launch into a frenzy. God was as lethal as poison to his heart of lead.

_But the demon does have a heart. _Those words clouded my mind with uncertainty. I did not know where Dorian was, nor if he had blabbed to half the country about what Count Vladislaus Dragulia really became in the dark shadows of the night. I curled up in a ball and massaged my temples, trying to ease the splitting headache that was threatening to shatter my skull. I was not going to leave my room until the masquerade ball. And that was still two days away.

* * *

"Miss," a soft, insistent voice said. "Miss, please wake up."

My eyes fluttered open and I found myself hanging over the side of a chair, my chin rested on an open book. Havard was standing beside me, one of his small hands tapping my shoulder.

"I apologize for waking Miss but today is the masquerade ball and it is extremely important that Miss goes down to breakfast to talk with the master about tonight." His tiny voice grew even quieter as he said this.

"I wish not to see him till the ball," I said.

"That would most displease master, Miss, and I fear master would take it out on Havard." His ears drooped.

"Very well. I'll go. Where's Jovan?" I said as I went over to my closet to put on some clothes.

"Jovan is stationed with the swords so that no one might take them tonight. Jovan will not leave his post."

"I see. So I have no hope of conversing with him before the ball?" I said as I slipped a clean shirt over my head.

"Not that Havard is aware of, Miss. Unless Miss would feel so inclined as to go and talk to Jovan." His voice rose hopefully.

"Why do you want me to speak with Jovan so badly, Havard? Is there something going on that I should know about?" I looked at the dwarfish creature searchingly.

"N-n-nothing, Miss. Nothing at all. Havard is just rambling on uselessly, that's all." He moved swiftly out of my way so that I could pass through the door. "The master is waiting, Isabelle," he said shakily.

"He'll have to wait longer," I replied, ignoring his horrified gasp. I was curious about how Havard kept on brining up Jovan in our conversations. "I am going to go speak with Jovan."

* * *

Finding a hallway when it does not want to be found is tedious work. I explored the entire castle, careful to stay away from places where Dracula might be lurking. I was getting rather frustrated until a flicker of purple flame appeared in front of me, no bigger than my thumb. I attempted to touch it, but it eluded my grasp and led me out of the smoking room I was in. It moved rather quickly, so I found myself chasing something that resembled a semblance of a flame to the staircase, which then it went up. I followed reluctantly, not really sure what was going on.

On the landing of the staircase, I realized I was in the hallway. Jovan was standing guard in his demon form, which made my heart sink. The flame flickered at me and then disappeared, leaving me alone with a demon I loathed.

"You came to speak with me," was his greeting. I ignored him and went over to one of the knights. I touched the hilt of the sword and stared pointedly at Jovan, my lips curled into a smile. He glared back at me with his red eyes.

"You said you wished to talk to me. You said you were sorry. Sorry for what? My life was ruined WAY before you entered the picture, I just didn't realize it then. So what do you wish to say?" I ran my hand down the full length of the sword, still staring at him with malice. He seemed unnerved by my heinous intentions. "What CAN you say?"

He blinked his eyes solemnly. "That there is still hope," he whispered.

"What?" I snapped my head up. Had I heard him correct?

He lowered his head, his eyes changing to my personal preference, brown. "There is still hope," he repeated. "For Gabriel, I mean."

I gaped at him. "Why are you getting my hopes up? You know there is no chance."

He shook his head. "Yes, there is," he murmured. "You cannot loose faith."

Startled, I took a step back. Was the real Jovan coming through?

"I-I don't understand," I said quickly. "What you are saying is that..."

"HE is coming," Jovan said urgently, and he took a small step towards me. "HE will defeat Vladislaus."

"How-how do you know this?" I said, my palms sweaty. I looked behind me to make sure Dracula was not overhearing our conversation. Then again, there was always the chance we couldn't see him...

"It doesn't matter how I know. It is THAT I know. Rest assured, child of Aurora, your pain will not go unheard. You are blessed by many things, not all of them mortal."

"Jovan, you are betraying your master. Why are you doing this? Do you even realize what would happen if Dracula found out? Why risk your life?"

He cocked his head and almost seemed to smile. "Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety," he said. In his mouth appeared a white lily. He gave it to me and then went over and stood in front of Raphael's sword.

"The heart has reasons that reason does not understand," he said slowly. "Better face a danger once than be always in fear."

"You speak in riddles," I said. "I do not understand."

"Love has power that dispels death; charm that conquers the enemy," he whispered, and then he seemed to be disappearing, so that I could no longer see him clearly. I was being forced backwards, and each passing second tore me further away from him. My feet were rooted in place.

And that was when I woke up in the smoking room, clasping the lily in my sweaty hand.

* * *

I made my way down to Dining Hall with the lily hiding safely in my breast pocket. Vladislaus was sitting at one end of the table, his eyes peeking out from behind long strands of dark hair. It seemed he had forgotten to style his hair that morning.

"You most _certainly _took your time getting here," he said curtly, his canines flashing. "I thought you might have gotten lost."

"Well your overwhelming concern is quite heartwarming," I replied in the same tome as I sat down on the opposite end of the table. We waited in silence for quite awhile until I grew impatient.

"You wanted to see me?" I said.

"Ah, yes, of course. I was just in the mood for a leisurely breakfast chat. And to lay down some simple terms."

I yawned. "And those are?"

"I am warning you not to interfere with my 'rendezvous' with Gabriel. If you do, there will be severe consequences." His cackled softly.

"Such as?" I said.

He was by my side in one instant and slinked his hand around my neck. I struggled against him, fighting for oxygen. But he would not relinquish me.

"Do you really want to know?" he said, his voice a deadly whisper. "Do you really want to know, my little pet?"

I did not answer and this mellowed him down. He freed my neck and I clutched it, gasping for air.

"Your interference will result in the death of Jovan, Havard, and Carl. There will be no tolerance whatsoever."

I nodded stiffly and got up, tripping over my chair in the process. He took my arm to help me steady myself.

"And I do wish you to look presentable for the ball," he said, his grasp growing tighter. "I would be much displeased if you shamed me."

I nodded again and tore myself from his grasp. My weak legs carried me into the library, where I collapsed on the couch next to the fireplace. I stared at the ceiling like I was in a trance, random phrases and vulgar images passing through my head. But one stood out before all the rest, one that would not let me rest in peace: _I looked and beheld a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death_...


	20. Bathed in the Devil's Light

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to update; school is demanding much of my time. I thank you all for being patient with me. Onward soldiers!

**Chapter 20- Bathed in the Devil's Light **

_He was coming. Tall, fair and inexplicably handsome, he made his way through the crowd like he was parting the Red Sea. God's grace shone down upon him and the wind ruffled his hair, her sighs of content and awe buffering him in a storm cloud. Piercing purple eyes shone through the smog, all powerful and all knowing. He was drawing closer..._

_But there was another force to counter this one. Darker, yes, but just as handsome. And as he approached, the Earth trembled, the sun hid behind the clouds, and birds were silenced by his piercing stare. They were the two balances of the scale, and their confrontation would mark the beginning of the end of something that had existed before the creation of time. The lethal Prince of Light versus the pungent Lord of Darkness. The redeemer and the destroyer would risk almost everything to terminate the other's presence. And only one insignificant human being stood between them..._

* * *

"Miss? The guests have begun to arrive." Havard said through my chamber door, his tiny voice barely audible. "Is Miss ready?"

I made the final adjustments to my dress and opened the door. Havard beamed up at me, his eyes twinkling.

"Miss decided to wear the dress Master gave her," he stated. "Master shall be much pleased."

I rolled my eyes. "As I have told you before, Havard, that is the last thing that I want to do. Pleasing him never once crossed my mind. I just so happen to be quite fond of this dress."

Havard nodded solemnly and motioned to his neck. I placed my hand around the necklace that Vladislaus had given me. "Protection from him," I explained, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

My stomach was turning violently as Havard led me out of my room and down the hallway. The dress glided behind me, which made me feel like I was in a wedding gown. My hair was done up in a French bun and white gloves adorned my hands. I was already wearing the swan mask. In an odd sort of way, I felt like I was going to my doom. If only I could somehow warn my father...

"Miss, we are here," Havard said, breaking my train of thought. I did not remember traveling any distance, but apparently we had, for now we were standing in the grand ballroom surrounded by guests shrouded in various types of masks. My mouth dropped.

The ballroom was extremely spacious. Long red banners hung from the balconies, bearing obscure symbols that bore no significance. An entire orchestra of musicians sat up front, testing their instruments. Jugglers, mimes, and acrobats bumbled around, providing entertainment. I was taken aback by the amount of people who had arrived already. It was sure to be one crowded evening. Apparently Vladislaus wanted an audience.

I looked down at Havard and realized he was no longer with me. Perturbed, I went over to the refreshments table and got myself a glass of cider. That was when the music started and the men and women joined hands. The tune was a soft and melodious one, but I had never heard it before. Everyone moved in perfect unison and I was quite content to just stand there and watch. But that would not be so, for right at that exact moment I spotted two figures standing over by a pillar, their eyes studying me carefully. I immediately identified them as my father and Carl. My heart skipped a beat. They were here for me.

The music was now becoming livelier, so I stood and glanced around for any sign of Dracula. He was sure to make a grand entrance and he would want no one to miss it. The musicians stopped playing and all heads turned to the main entrance, where a man cloaked in black stood. He was dressed ornately in raven feathers and could have been mistaken for the devil himself. A chill went up my spine.

"My dear guests, please, continue!" He said slowly. I moved as quickly as I could away from the main entrance, but he found me before I even got the chance to hide.

"I spot your valiant protectors over there, by the statue of Metratron," he whispered in my ear. "I think that they have brought no weapons. What do you suppose they plan to fight me with?"

I tore away from him and nearly succeeded in knocking a couple over. My heart was beating so quickly I did not even take the time to apologize.

"You know I am going to win," his voice rang in my head. "There is no stopping me."

I clutched my breast where I had secretly hid the lily. It was my only means of hope. I glanced around the congregation but saw no sign of either Carl or Gabriel. My heart sank.

"Drink my blood. It is the only way."

"No," I murmured softly. "No."

The world began to spin as the musicians started to play _Lacrimosa _from _Mozart's Requiem_. Of all music to choose, he picks a funeral mass piece? What was he thinking? The guests did not stop dancing; they seemed to feed off the music, like it was empowering their very souls. The sight made me feel nauseous.

I shook my head and went over to a thick column and hid myself behind it, dropping to the marble floor in vain. It was hopeless. The lily was wilting. My strength was failing... but I _had_ seen my father and Carl. Or had I? I was floating in and out of conscious now; I couldn't even trust my eyes. It was all a disaster. I just wanted it to be over.

Out of nowhere, I felt a strong hand on my arm. I glanced up and found myself face to face with Dorian, who had one finger held to his lips. I nodded and stood, automatically checking for signs of Dracula. He was over by the punch bowl talking to some guests... that was good, perhaps we could make a run for it.

Dorian led me through a door adjacent to the ballroom. I found myself in another library surrounded by a horde of angels including Raphael. In the middle of the library was my father, his eyes glowing like fire. My jaw dropped.

"What-how?" I squeaked as I studied Raphael out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was him because he was clad in green and he smelled of the forest. I bowed in respect to him and turned back to Gabriel who had not gotten up to greet me, much to my surprise. He stayed in the center of the angels. I noticed Carl was standing behind him.

"Don't move, Isabelle," he whispered softly. "Don't move. You are protected from the forces of evil by this ring of angels. Do not break the bond."

I dared not breathe. My father lifted his hands towards the heavens and said something in Aramaic, a language that I was unfamiliar with. A purple light flashed, blinding me temporarily. When I could see again there was another presence in the room, a presence that forced me to my knees. A single tear rolled down my cheek.

"He has come," I murmured.

"Who?"

My eyes snapped open. Dracula was staring down at me, a scowl on his handsome features. I glared back at him and stood, painfully aware that he towered over me.

"Who has come?" he inquired simply. I shook my head and tried to move away from his pensive stare.

"You will answer me. NOW!" He ordered.

I withdrew the lily from underneath my gown. It was alive and thriving, and a purple glow tinted the edges. His eyes widened upon realization of what it was.

"JOVAN!" he screamed in the most unearthly tone. I cringed and clutched my ears. Jovan appeared out of nowhere and landed calmly on the ground, parting the crowd easily due to his fearsome demeanor. He folded his wings and shook his mane to the right side of his neck.

"You called me, Vlad?" he said with a blasé tone of voice. Dracula disappeared from in front of me and materialized next to Jovan, who merely batted an eye. I trembled at the thought of the fate that awaited the demon. Vladislaus did not know mercy.

"You helped her," he snarled, withdrawing a sword from inside his robes. "TRAITOR!"

Jovan reared up at the sight of the sword, his eyes flashing blood. "You know not of what you speak, vampyre. Beware false accusations!"

"LOOK AT THIS!" he roared, flinging the lily underneath Jovan's front hooves. "LOOK AT THIS!"

Jovan grinned slowly as his eyes of red scrutinized the flower. "The sign of Uriel, that is. I would recognize it anywhere. The lily is a symbol of hope. Purple is the color of salvation." He looked up at Vladislaus. "You accuse me of giving this to her?"

It was evident to everyone that Vlad would not be able to control his anger much longer. People were beginning to file out slowly, their eyes fearfully watching his every move as they made their exodus.

"No. I accuse you of letting someone else give it to her." The grip on his sword was growing tighter.

"And who might that be?" Jovan said, his fangs curling in a satanic smile. The demon knew that he had pushed the vampire over the edge. With two quick movements Vlad drew an X on his forehead. Blood flowed like a river down the front of Jovan's face to the ground where it stained the marble red. Jovan's eyes remained as cold as steel despite the intense pain.

"I mark thee..."

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen." Vlad spun around, his long black cloak whirling about him like a windstorm to face my father, who was scowling at him. Carl and Dorian stood behind Gabriel, their stance fierce.

"Well, well, Gabriel, we meet at last," he said smoothly. "I presume there is something you need?"

"I ask you only to help my daughter. Please... she needs blood." I caught eye contact with my father and saw the pain in his eyes. I looked away quickly.

"Why should I help you when you have been a hindrance to me? Not to mention I receive my overdue reward once I deliver your head on a plate to my master. I see no reason to help you, or spare Isabelle's life." Vlad smirked and turned to me. "Come here. Now," he ordered.

I went to stand beside him, my eyes on Jovan the entire time. His head was bowed in the excruciating pain. I saw that the wound was not healing, indicating to me that Vlad must have used one of the 12 Lost Swords. I could not help but pity Jovan, and in a split-second decision, I tore myself from Vlad's influence and went over to him. He raised his head and looked at me with an expression that read, "I am dreadfully sorry." His knees then gave way and he plummeted to the ground with a sickening thud. It took everything I had not to scream. In an intense fit of rage, I ran at Vlad and latched my hands around his neck in a foolish attempt to strangle him. He calmly broke my death grip and clutched my shoulder, his claw like nails embedded in my skin. I took a deep breath and blinked back tears.

"Please, let my daughter go. She has not harmed you in any way. I need you to help her. Please." Gabriel was begging now. He had lowered himself to the ground and had his arms gestured upward towards Vlad.

"Don't beg, you fool!" I sobbed, my tears boiling over with the grief and anger that had been shut up in me for the last week. "Get up! Do not submit to the devil! Fight him!" I said. Vlad's grip on my shoulder grew tighter as a warning, but I paid no heed. "He is a liar!" I screamed. "He is a deceiver! A demon bathed in the devil's light! He has no heart! Destroy him!" I bent down and threw Vlad's sword at my father, oblivious to the scorching pain that seared through my hand and the harsh shove I received from Dracula. My father did not make any attempt to catch the sword, since he knew that it would cause him intense pain. Instead, a deity surrounded by a blinding purple light caught the weapon and then materialized in front of us, revealing who he was. I fell to my knees in relief and let my tears run unchecked.

"No," Vlad said, his stature shrinking. "This can't be..."

"Greetings to you, servant of those who we do not speak," Uriel said, his immense wings of fire fluttering in the air. The seraph had long, silver hair that reminded me of gossamer. As he spoke, his eyes of violet glowed with an exuberance that could not be countered, even by the richest jewels of the earth. Gabriel, Carl and Dorian had shrunk back against a column in awe of the archangel. I remained fixed to my spot, for I could not move for wonder.

"You have come to fight... me," Vlad said, loosing the edge in his voice that he usually carried.

"No, I have come to redeem you," Uriel said calmly. His voice was wise and just, with just a hint of spite. He was careful to keep it hidden.

"You used Jovan for your own benefit," Vlad remarked, turning to the fallen demon. He was still breathing but his eyes were closed. I shivered but remained quiet. "You poisoned his already weak mind."

The seraph's laugh gave me the chills. "Jovan hath a weak mind? You know naught of what you speak. He came to me of his own accord. I suppose his guilt for the injury he hath caused Isabelle outweighed his respect for you."

"That is unnecessary," Vlad said, his lip curling. "Be gone from us."

Uriel smiled and grasped the sword. "I see this is my own sword. Interesting choice."

"Are you challenging me?" Vlad said, his voice raising. He withdrew another sword from his robes. The inscription on it flashed in the weak light: _Satanam_.

The seraph raised his sword upwards to the heavens, his wings of fire batting fiercely. Vlad did not wait. He slit his neck, grabbed me, and thrust my mouth to his jugular. I felt warm liquid flow into my mouth and I tried in vain not to swallow. But soon I was gasping for air and the disgusting taste overwhelmed me, forcing me to consume the disgusting liquid. Convinced I was done, he threw me to the ground. I looked up at Uriel and his eyes paralyzed me with fear upon the realization of what Vladislaus had done.

"There is something I forgot to tell you, Gabriel," Vlad said haughtily. "She let me drink from her, so now that she has supped on me, she has no choice but to become a vampire. Your daughter will be of the living dead, doomed to wander this earth without any knowledge of the pleasures of mortal life." He grinned and then threw himself into battle with Uriel, who was now crying tears of blood.

Author's Note: CLIFFHANGER ALERT! STAY TUNED!


	21. Now Cries the Black Redeemer

**Chapter 21: Now Cries the Black Redeemer **

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. On with the show!   
_To my reviewer Kate:_ Iam currently a sophomore at Mount Notre Dame High School. Thanks for the compliments!

* * *

A little girl stood outside of Vatican City singing a soft, delicate song. Her hair was braided with fresh spring flowers and her golden locks soaked in the sun's warmth as she rose above the horizon. The tune was solemn sounding but gave the little girl hope as she gazed upwards into the sky, awaiting a new dawn. 

_Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;   
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;   
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:   
The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me. _

Now droops the milk white peacock like a ghost,   
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,   
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves   
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,   
And slips into the bosom of the lake:   
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip   
Into my bosom and be lost in me.

* * *

* * *

Jovan grimaced as he attempted to move his front legs. The demon was barely able to see what was happening, thanks to the fact that a large amount of blood was slowly sealing both of his eyes shut. He winced and tried to stand, only to be faced with more pain. Jovan blinked his eyes and could not help but watch the swift movements of Uriel's wings. He was blazing like a purple torch and each time the seraph's sword came in contact with Vlad's there was a loud chiming noise that was deafening to the ears. The demon groaned and collapsed on his side, his long black mane shielding his eyes from the radiant light of Uriel and the dark shadow of Vladislaus. Jovan took a deep breath and tried to stand again. He raised his front legs to his chest and thrust his weight forward. Another painful heave and he then transferred all of his weight to his back legs. The demon shook his mane and found himself standing on all fours, but his legs were trembling terribly. Jovan knew that at any second he could collapse. 

Uriel was in a fit of rage. Jovan glanced around and realized that Isabelle, Gabriel, and Carl were all frozen in place, expressions of shock plastered on their faces. The seraph had frozen them solid since he was now in his true form. Perhaps that was a good thing.

Jovan stumbled forward and filled his lungs with air. Uriel and Dracula remained oblivious to the demon's presence, each one determined to slaughter the other. Uriel was no longer interested in salvation, he wanted restitution, and his anger was suffocating. Jovan blinked again and saw that the lily was still lying on the floor, untouched. The petals were turning a death shade of black tinted with red. Jovan glanced over at Isabelle. Her skin was white and she was loosing her mortal qualities. Time was running out if he wanted to save her from her fate.

The lily began to crumple as Jovan limped his way towards it. He bent down to consume the lily but instead found himself face to face with Vlad's sword, which was then quickly thrust against his throat. He raised his head and eyed the vampire. Dracula had gaping wounds all over his once handsome face and Uriel was no where to be found. Vlad was breathing heavily and his raven hair was drenched in blood. Silver blood.

"Didn't know that seraphim bleed, did you?" he huffed. "Uriel has departed in shame and left every single one of you to your fate. Are you ready to accept what God has given you? You should be certain that you have not a chance."

Jovan grinned and flashed his canines. "In these matters the only thing that is certain is uncertainty."

"She is a half-blood, Jovan. You never took kindly to them before. Why should you start now?" Vladislaus raised his eyebrows questionably. "_Unless_ your services were employed by some other than the Lord of Darkness."

"I want not what he has to offer. I want peace. I have brought pain and suffering on this family and I wish to no longer be held accountable. I am sure you feel the same way." Jovan sighed and gingerly shifted his trembling legs.

"How do you wish to prove that?" He pushed the sword closer to Jovan's skin. The demon winced but stood still.

"You love her," Jovan said flatly.

"You pretend to know what loves is, but you have never experienced it, traitor. You use the word in the most liberal of terms," Vlad said with a panicky tone of voice. He narrowed his eyes.

"I know your plan. If she is a vampire you will reign over her forever. She will be constantly under your influence with little hope of breaking free. Your love of her will bind her prisoner, just like the case of Aurora. I refuse to see that happen."

"You would rather have her dead than be one of us?" Dracula said angrily, his eyes fierce with outrage.

"Aye," the demon said softly. Then, with the last amount of strength he had, he reared up on his hind legs, putting his height way above Vlad's. The wound on his face had stopped bleeding.

"I will not let you take her," he roared, and above him the lights flickered. "You held me prisoner once. I was embedded in your principles and lived only to serve you, Vlad. But no more. I have seen what you truly are, and I shall pronounce it confidently: Thou art a demon and I cast thee from this world."

"You do not have the power to do that, Jovan. I shall never let her go. She is mine and I claimed her so many nights ago when both she and Tynan were rescued. You have no say." Vlad batted his eyes amusedly.

"_In nomine Domini Sabaoth sui filiique ite ad infernos,"_ Jovan said. The lights above the demon flickered again.

Vlad dropped the knife and backed up two steps. Small beads of sweat were beginning to form a crown around his pale forehead.

"You speak the language of the Church," he cried, his eyes wide in horror. "How does a demon below me in stature speak the language of the Church?"

"You know what you must do, Vlad," Jovan said, his voice sad and melodious. "Help her- help her before it is too late." Jovan winced and bent down on his front knees in an attempt to relieve the pain that was coursing through him. "You have little time..."

"How DARE you command me! I am the master here! You are..."

"WHAT DO YOU SEEK?" Jovan screamed, as Uriel appeared suddenly in the air behind Vlad. He was mounted on a pale horse. Vlad was unaware of the seraph's presence and instead picked up the lily, which now resembled a dead, crumpled leaf. He ran the rough texture between his fingers and looked up at Jovan, who remained bent over, his red eyes shaded from view by long locks of silvery black mane. The demon was dying.

"Save her, Vlad. Prove to her what you seek." Jovan then collapsed, his muscular frame crashing hard against the marble floor. The demon took a long, drawn out breath, his sides quivered for a moment, and then he was still. Vlad merely batted his eyes and proceeded to mull over what Jovan had said.

"I seek..." Dracula went over to Isabelle and ran a long hand down her cheek. Her skin's coolness drove him made with desire and unbeknownst to him, love. This overcame his thirst for revenge on Gabriel and in one, decisive movement he consumed the lily, his eyes of steel focused on hers the entire time.

Uriel reined the pale horse around in a circle, his violet eyes blazing. Dracula had consumed the lily, now it was time to dispose of him. Uriel and the horse raced up behind the unsuspecting vampire, and Uriel thrust his own sword into the heart of the Son of the Devil. Vlad screamed and fell to his knees as the sword penetrated his once newly revived heart, ripping it to shreds. He clutched his breast and plummeted to the ground, and only one thing flashed through his head as he acknowledged his immediate death: his volatile love of the daughter of his archenemy had resulted in his own undoing.

"I SET HER FREE UPON THE CONSUMPTION OF HOPE AND SALVATION! REDEEM US!" he cried, and then, as quick as lightning, the vampire died. His body turned to ash and all that remained of the pungent Lord of Darkness was a small speck on the ground of a blood-stained ballroom. Uriel disappeared just as fast as he had come, his mission fulfilled. Outside of the castle howled a grief-stricken Fenrir, his cries of sorrow sending daggers at anyone who was close enough to hear. Many a person would go to his death bed with the laments of a wolf ringing in his ears.

Author's Note: Questions? Comments? Concerns? Direct them to my e-mail or say it in your review. There will be at least one more chapter so please stay tuned!

_In the name of the lord of hosts and his son get thee to the   
__lower world. - _That is what Jovan said

For anyone who is terribly confused, there was a huge chunk of symbolism in this story. I have made you a list of some of the more prominent examples:   
_Pale horse- Book of Revelation, symbol of death   
__Lily-Symbol of hope and salvation, consuming it would imply good will towards others and send them a pardon of sins and/or transgressions   
__Jovan being able to speak Latin-represents the fact that demons do not always act the way a mortal would expect them to act (another example: Vlad being capable of love)   
__Isabelle, Carl, and Van Helsing being frozen upon the sight of Uriel in his true form- Proves the divine but unpredictable nature of one of God's most powerful archangels and fulfills the descriptions of the seraph and the power he held   
Fenrir's lament- I compared Vlad to a wolf in Chapter 14. Fenrir and Dracula shared many similarities, hence the intense grief that Fenrir experienced. __   
__Little girl outside of Vatican- This can be taken several different ways. You decide. :) _


	22. Tell Me What You Seek

Author's Note: The poem in Chapter 21 (Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal) is the rightful work of Lord Alfred Tennyson.

**Chapter 22 – Tell Me What You Seek **

**It** rained. Outside of St. Peter in Chains Cathedral stood a tall man clad in a grey overcoat. His eyes remained hidden by the low brim of his hat. He had long, silvery black hair that seemed to gleam, even though it remained untouched by the sun's hidden rays. People walked by him slowly; their faces full of curiosity and awe as they passed. The man ignored their pensive stares and instead sauntered straight out into the street, not even bothering to check for signs of oncoming traffic. Some witnesses' say that he appeared to glide across the ground, others even went so far as to proclaim that he _floated_. Whatever the case, the man with black hair definitely did not act like a normal human being. If only they had been able to see his eyes…

* * *

**Isabelle** woke to the sound of rain outside. She shook her head and kicked off the covers, shivering in response to the cold that enveloped her bare legs. _He must have forgotten to light a fire,_ she thought as she grudgingly moved herself out of bed. _And for some reason, it doesn't surprise me_. 

When Isabelle entered the kitchen she put on a robe and lit the fireplace, mumbling under her breath random complaints about Dorian. She figured he was still out at the local pub and would probably come home drunk. He never slept and had just recently begun to have seizures. Each time he experienced one, his recuperation time lengthened. The doctor had told Isabelle there was nothing she could do but pray and wait.

"What bothers me," she murmured softly to herself, "is that he is only thirty-two. How much longer does he really have?"

Isabelle had realized long ago the uselessness of questions. She left the fire and went outside to stand on the porch. Streaks of black, red and orange dotted the sky, signaling the arrival of dawn. Isabelle spotted her horse Nelson grazing underneath an oak tree. He appeared content despite the chilly weather.

"Horses have a knack for survival," she said quietly. "It never fails to amaze me."

Isabelle prayed silently for Carl. He was in Italy learning to become a priest and she hoped that everything was going well. With a sigh, she let herself back inside.

The fire's warmth encompassed the kitchen so Isabelle felt comfortable enough to take off the robe and change into her day clothes. She brushed her hair out of her face and pondered over what to make for breakfast. It was then she heard a knock at the door. Dorian was home.

Sighing, she got up gingerly and went to open the door, shaking her head the entire way.

"Where have you…" she stopped in mid sentence. Isabelle took two steps back and reached for the gun that was hanging over the doorframe. The gun her father had given her. The gun with silver bullets.

"_Miserere mei, quoniam infirmus sum_," the man said. She could not see him clearly because he was shrouded in darkness. "_Et anima mea turbata est valde." _

"Who are you?" she asked, raising the gun. "If you don't answer, I'll fire." She cocked her head. "Come into the light."

There was an awkward silence and then he stepped forward, letting the light from the kitchen illuminate the outline of his body. Isabelle gasped and nearly dropped the gun.

"You… you can't be," she whispered, her heart beating rapidly. "You were killed…"

The man kept his head bowed, shielding his face from her. She knew it was him, though. She just knew it.

"Let me see your eyes," she said, taking another step backwards. "Let me see if you are who I think you are."

The man removed his hat and looked at her. His face reminded her of a marble statue, chiseled and sculpted to perfection. His hair shimmered in the light from the fire. But she still could not see his eyes. They were hidden behind his long locks of hair.

"Let me see your eyes," she repeated, raising the gun again. "Now."

He sighed and shook his hair; much like a horse would shake his mane. Eyes of red bored into hers.

"J-Jovan…" Isabelle said weakly. She dropped the gun. "You're not who I thought you were." Her legs began to tremble. "He slaughtered you…"

"You can say that on the third year after my death I was resurrected." He smiled. "You said so yourself, horses have a knack for survival."

"I… I don't understand. You died. After we wakened from Uriel's spell you were lying on the floor, dead." Isabelle shut her eyes. The sight of Jovan bathing in his own blood on the ballroom floor had plagued her dreams for many months. Only just recently she had stopped having nightmares.

"And I was brought back, by the mercy of a higher power," he stated. "Vlad, fortunately, did not receive that privilege."

"What happened?" Isabelle said, still careful to keep her distance. "Who saved me from becoming a vampire?"

Jovan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Vlad did."

"But…" she began. Dracula, of all people, saved her from the fate he condemned her to in the first place?

"I suppose he changed his mind at the last minute," he interrupted. "It seems that he loved you after all."

"Where is he now?"

"Serving his punishment that was dutifully given to him. One good deed does not outlast all the heinous ones, even though that good deed was spurred by love. He will never return here."

"I could _almost_ say the same of you," Isabelle said. "Why were you sent back?"

"I turned from the path of darkness earlier then Vlad. The consequences of my actions weren't so severe. I am now here to protect the innocent from the evil and make amends with those I have wronged. I decided to start with you."

"You never wronged me," she stated. "You helped me. You gave me the lily. I believe it is what saved me in the end."

"Perhaps…" he began. "But I still held evil intentions at heart. Only up until Vlad marked me with an X did I fully reconsider my alliance. I chose the other side. Your side."

Jovan nodded to Isabelle and then proceeded to leave. At the last second Isabelle grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To Castle Dracula. Valdemar rules the place now. I've despised that vampire my entire life and now I plan to dispose of him. Fenrir and Havard deserve to be set free from his suffocating clutches."

"You aren't afraid of what he might be able to do to you?" Isabelle said.

Jovan sighed and stepped out on to the porch. "I have my methods," he replied, removing the grey overcoat. Attached to his waist were two sabers, their scabbards wrought in pure gold. He smiled and put the coat back on.

"One swipe from these and he is gone forever," Jovan said, half-smiling. "Then I can serve his head on a platter to Lucifer."

"Let me come with you," Isabelle pleaded, folding her hands.

Jovan's brow furrowed. "Why? Your father would certainly disapprove."

"My father died, about a year ago," she said sadly. "Gabriel was a valiant protector; his curse was to save strangers and rid the world of evil. I don't think he could object to this with a clean conscience."

"I see. But you still haven't answered my question. Why do _you _want to come?" He put his hat back on his head. "There must be a reason."

"Dorian shall not miss me. And frankly, you, Havard, and Fenrir are all the family I have left."

"Family?" Jovan snorted. "You seek a family in the company of demons? A heartless class of beings?"

"Demons do have hearts," she said. "I've at least learned that much."

Jovan batted his eyes and sighed. "I can remember when you thought differently. But I suppose attitudes change over time. Very well. I will permit your company." He walked down the steps and out onto the path that took him off the property. He gave a shrill cry and then there was a flash of light. Gone was Jovan the human. Now he was in his horse form, a beautiful stallion with a flowing mane and tail. Isabelle was shocked.

"Have you always been able to transform from horse to demon to human and back?" she inquired.

Jovan shook his head and bent down on his knees. He wanted her to ride him. She glanced back at Nelson and figured that he'd be all right. She inhaled sharply and got onto the horse's back, her legs quivering from excitement. He rose slowly and neighed, his voice reverberating throughout all of Budapest. Isabelle smiled and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Run, my beloved stallion," she said. "Run, and tell me what you seek."

THE END

**Dedicated to three very important people: God, for without him, I would cease to exist; my friends, especially Rachael and Jayni, for always being there for me and encouraging me to pursue my dreams, no matter how unrealistic they are; and finally, last but not least, I dedicate this story to a person who shall remain unnamed. May he become the best of them all and be delivered from the snares of lies and deceit that chain him unmercifully to the semblance of a dictator. **

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and gave me suggestions! You all mean everything to me and it's awesome to have such unwavering support! I hope you enjoyed _Demons Do Have Hearts_ and I wish you the best in your writing career!

If you ever wish to contact me, feel free to send me an email. I'd love to hear from you!


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